A Literary and Narratological Reading of Titurius Sabinus and Quintus Cicero in Julius Caesar’s Bellum Gallicum

By

Wesley J. Hanson

Submitted to the graduate degree program in Classics and the Graduate Faculty of the University

of Kansas in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Arts.

_____________________________________

Chairperson Dr. Anthony Corbeill

_____________________________________

Dr. Emma Scioli

_____________________________________

Dr. Tara Welch

Date Defended: May 8, 2015

ii

The Thesis Committee for Wesley J. Hanson

certifies that this is the approved version of the following thesis:

A Literary and Narratological Reading of Titurius Sabinus and Quintus Cicero in Julius Caesar’s Bellum Gallicum

_____________________________________

Chairperson Dr. Anthony Corbeill

Date Approved: May 8, 2015

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Abstract

This thesis argues that the characters of Titurius Sabinus and Quintus Cicero, as depicted by

Caesar in his Bellum Gallicum, fulfill a narrative function that furthers the political aims of

Caesar’s text. I start by arguing that there are three Caesars present in the Bellum Gallicum,

employing Gérard Genette’s three definitions of “narrative” as a model: Caesar the historical

author, Caesar the narrative voice, and Caesar the character. I also argue that Caesar the author

writes in the “zero degree,” a term Roland Barthes created to describe a seemingly unadorned

writing style. When characterizing Sabinus and Cicero, Caesar will occasionally break his degree

zero style to pass judgment (frequently implicit rather than explicit) on the two men and their

actions. Through this process Caesar establishes his narrative voice as an arbiter of proper

military conduct: when an officer acts in accordance with what the narrative voice approves, he

is shown to be successful in the field. This approach has allowed me to engage with, and

advance, the scholarly approaches to Caesar undertaken in valuable recent monographs by Luca

Grillo and Andrew Riggsby.

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Table of Contents

Chapter One: A Literary Caesar and his Narrated Officers 1

Chapter Two: Introducing the Officers 18

Chapter Three: Sabinus’ Success 23

Chapter Four: Sabinus’ Failure and Cicero’s Success 32

Chapter Five: Caesar-character and Caesar-narrator 58

Works Cited 70

1

Chapter One: A Literary Caesar and his Narrated Officers

In his dialogue Brutus, Cicero presents the following discussion of Caesar’s style,

focusing specifically on his commentaries:

Tum Brutus: orationes quidem eius mihi vehementer probantur. compluris autem legi; atque etiam commentarios quosdam scripsit rerum suarum. Valde quidem, inquam, probandos; nudi enim sunt, recti et venusti, omni ornatu orationis tamquam veste detracta. sed dum voluit alios habere parata, unde sumerent qui vellent scribere historiam, ineptis gratum fortasse fecit, qui volent illa calamistris inurere: sanos quidem homines a scribendo deterruit; nihil est enim in historia pura et inlustri brevitate dulcius. (Brutus 262). Then Brutus said: “His speeches are highly praised, rightfully so. I have read many; and he also wrote some commentaries about his own actions.” “Greatly indeed,” I said, “do they deserve to be praised; for they are bare, upright and charmingly interesting, with every ornament of oratory removed, just like a cloak. But while he wished that others have readied things from which those, who might wish to write history, could take up the task, he perhaps made it a pleasing undertaking to the idiots, who would wish to burn them with curling-irons: he scared sane men, at any rate, away from writing; for there is nothing in history sweeter than pure and lucid brevity.”1

Cicero, in responding to Brutus’ praise of Caesar’s speeches and acknowledgement of the

commentaries, produces his own assessment of Caesar’s style—an assessment that initially

seems positive. Describing Caesar’s commentaries as “bare, upright and charmingly interesting,

with every ornament of oratory removed, just like a cloak” (nudi enim sunt, / recti et venusti, /

omni ornatu orationis tamquam veste detracta), Cicero imbues Caesar’s style—a sparse style—

with elegance by describing it with a tricolon, perhaps demonstrating his approval of Caesar’s

style by praising it with a rhetorical flourish so commonly found in his own works. Cicero

continues by drawing a contrast between Caesar’s abilities as a writer and the abilities of those

who might wish to write a history of the Gallic campaign,2 finding Caesar’s work to outstrip any

1 Unless otherwise noted, all translations are my own. For the text of the Bellum Gallicum, I am using the 2008 Teubner edited by Wolfgang Hering. 2 It is worth noting that there is a possibility that Cicero could be referring to Caesar’s Civil War commentaries, but as Garcea 2010: 111 argues, it is altogether more likely that Cicero refers to the Bellum Gallicum.

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potential writer who might undertake the task.3 Finally, Cicero ends with the simple assertion:

“there is nothing in history sweeter than pure and lucid brevity” (nihil est … in historia pura et

inlustri brevitate dulcius). Cicero’s meaning seems initially clear: Caesar’s style is not only well-

suited for the genre of the commentary, but it might even surpass the genre of the commentary

and rival works of history. No one dares follow Caesar’s commentary on the Gallic Wars with

his own history, because Caesar’s style achieves the brevity that is so sweet in historiographical

writing.4

It is possible to doubt Cicero’s sincerity in this passage, however, particularly by

questioning whether Cicero’s remarks are ironic and tongue-in-cheek. One recent scholar is

inclined to argue that it is “hazardous to conclude that Cicero thought the Commentaries to be

honest narrative worthy of pure praise,” with some concluding that his praise is outright irony—

derogatory irony.5 The bulk of this argumentation from recent scholars relies upon the fact that

Cicero elsewhere describes good historiographical writing as elegant—at the very least, in a style

with more ornamentation than Caesar’s brief style.6 It is altogether reasonable, then, that Cicero

appreciates Caesar’s style, while finding the style itself to be lacking. Caesar excels in a style

3 Hirtius echoes a similar sentiment in his preface to Book 8. As Kraus 2005: 98 notes, Hirtius and Cicero take their similar judgments in different directions. 4 For a counter to the argument that the commentaries are written for the sake of providing a foundation from which others might write more fleshed-out histories see Kraus 2009: 160-161. She calls the notion that Caesar wrote the commentaries for others to expand on a Caesarian “pose.” While it is certainly true that commentarius is a much contested term (see Riggsby 2006: 133-150 for a recent in-depth discussion of the genre), it is not my concern here. 5 The quotation comes from Powell 1998: 114-115, who notes that Cicero seems to praise Caesar, while remaining open to the possibility that Cicero’s comments are insincere. He does, however, dismiss the possibility that they are derogatory. In a similar vein, Garcea 2010: 112-113 argues that Cicero might be praising Caesar’s style—a style that Cicero does not particularly like. This seems like a reasonable reading; Cicero clearly recognizes the impressive nature of Caesar’s work, though he might not have a personal affection for it. See Kraus 2005: 98-99 and 111-112 for a reading that understands Cicero’s assessment as more critical, derogatory and ironic. In contrast, see Adcock 1956: 12-13, who thinks that Cicero is sincere in his praise of Caesar’s literary merits. 6 For a full list of Ciceronian citations regarding historiography and style, see Garcea 2010: 111-113, particularly note 99 on pg. 111, which lists out the citations.

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that Cicero would never adopt.7 On this interpretation, in describing Caesar’s style with a

tricolon, Cicero demonstrates the effectiveness of rhetorical flourishes while complimenting a

style for lacking them. Rather than seeing the tricolon as Cicero’s attempt to bolster Caesar’s

stylistic reputation by lending him a literary helping hand, perhaps the figure is better construed

as a game of literary one-upmanship. In light of the other writings Cicero produced about the

connection between historiographical writing and elegance, this seems a more likely assessment

of the tricolon. This supposition gains further credibility from the fact that the tricolon is

particularly complicated. Starting with a simple first element, Cicero glosses nudi with the

increasingly more complicated second and third elements (recti et venusti, omni ornatu orationis

tamquam veste detracta), making the tricolon an unusual, but still techinically correct, rising

tricolon. In addition, dectracta is attracted into the gender of veste. Since it is a mark of high

style to play with the gender of words, it is safe to conclude that Cicero, in approving of Caesar's

bare style, shows his approval by means of a complex and un-Caesarian sentence.

The content of Cicero's praise, however, poses an interesting question—a question that

might help us develop a greater understanding of Caesar’s style. I return now to the tricolon in

full: “Greatly indeed, I said, do they deserve to be praised; for they are bare, upright, and

charmingly interesting, with every ornament of oratory removed, just like a cloak.” (Valde

quidem, inquam, probandos; nudi enim sunt, recti et venusti, omni ornatu orationis tamquam

veste detracta). In writing that Caesar’s commentaries are bare, upright, and charmingly

interesting, Cicero glosses his description of what is “bare” as something that is “charmingly

interesting.” This gloss is immediately followed by a second description of the commentaries as

7 We might wonder why Cicero seems so forthcoming with his praise but reserved with his criticism. Powell 1998: 114 offers two suggestions. First, he argues that Cicero might be hiding his criticism for fear of political retribution. Adcock 1956: 13 disagrees, arguing that this seems out of Cicero’s nature as a literary titan. Second, he argues that Cicero delights in punning on the potentially sexualized nudi, recti, venusti tricolon. Kraus 2005: 98-99 expands this argument by drawing connections between Caesar’s style and his licentious reputation.

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stripped of all ornament. Thus Cicero poses a paradoxical question: How are we to understand

the relationship between these descriptions? How can Caesar’s writings be both venusti and

stripped of all ornament? This paradox seems to have haunted Caesarian scholars through the

years. In the preface to his book Caesar as Man of Letters, F.E. Adcock sees the need to justify

his book against those who are uninterested in a literary Caesar because his commentaries appear

only to have a “practical purpose in schools.”8 To seek the same justification in the current realm

of scholarship would be to pose a straw-man: there have been three major texts in the last twenty

years that have paid close attention to the literary nature of Caesar’s work, not to mention

numerous essays and articles.9 Nevertheless, I think it is helpful to continue to focus upon

Caesar’s literary capacities, even though half a century has elapsed since Adcock started to

rebuke the notion that Caesar is a “school-boy’s author.” Which is to say, we must ask ourselves

how Caesar writes seemingly without ornament, but in a way that is still charmingly interesting.

I seek to answer the question by examining the ways in which Caesar interweaves his style with

a consistent attention to narratological structure and characterization. The primary method by

which I will provide such an examination is by focusing specifically on Caesar’s portrayal of his

subordinate officers Quintus Sabinus and Quintus Cicero.

In approaching Caesar’s Bellum Gallicum as a literary text worthy of literary

consideration, I am indebted to two recent texts, Luca Grillo’s The Art of Caesar’s Bellum

Civile: Literature, Ideology, and Community and Andrew M. Riggsby’s Caesar in Gaul and

Rome: War in Words. In his book, Grillo argues that for all the pejorative classifications and

simplistic readings that the Bellum Civile has suffered in the past, it is actually an artfully

8 Adcock 1956: vii. 9 The three are Welch and Powell 1998, Riggsby 2006, and Grillo 2012. In addition, Krebs and Grillo together have a forthcoming Cambridge Companion to Caesar that is entirely devoted to Caesar as author. Brown 2013: 42 describes the current state of Caesarian studies as approaching the text with the assumption “that nothing is included without deliberation and design, to convey inexorably the author’s personal interpretation of events.”

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constructed book that exploits literary techniques for the sake of engaging in a “contemporary

political debate.”10 Just because the BC may advance an ideological program does not mean, for

Grillo, that it is without literary merit—its literary merit may, in fact, derive from how artfully

and persuasively it entices its readers. By tracking intra- and intertexual references in the BC and

by highlighting Caesar’s narratological devices (such as focalization), Grillo concludes that “the

BC in fact is not a piece of propaganda, but a work of literature.”11 I would like to employ a

similar approaching in my reading of the BG.

Riggsby, like Grillo, emphasizes the role of inter- and intratextual references in Caesar’s

work, most specifically in the BG. In doing so, he sets an invaluable historical, political, and

literary context for our understanding of the text. I, by working within the external contexts that

Riggsby establishes in his book, seek to bolster, expand, or enhance certain internal readings

Riggsby performs of the BG.12 By establishing and emphasizing a relationship between the inter-

and intratextual references in the BG, Riggsby effectively demonstrates the literary nature of

Caesar’s commentaries, in ways similar to Grillo. Moreover, just as Grillo applies certain

techniques of literary analysis to the BC, Riggsby too approaches Caesar’s work with theoretical

perspectives in mind, thus demonstrating not only the feasibility but also the immense value of

reading Caesar in conjunction with a literarily-informed theoretical perspective. In the case of

both books, a theoretical approach provides a persuasive vantage point from which both authors

can argue that Caesar’s works are literary, thus augmenting the other points (such as political

points) that each author makes about Caesar’s texts. Both books, however, share one weakness. 10 Grillo 2012: 6. 11 Grillo 2012: 7. He finishes the quotation with “and in literature allusions can count as political gestures and advance an ideological program,” thereby effectively demonstrating the tie between a rhetorical technique and its political ramifications in contemporary political debate. For contemporary claims that Caesar’s commentaries constitute propaganda, see Goldsworthy 1998: 193-195. 12 Riggsby 2006: 1 claims that his “study has two roughly equal parts,” one of which is external and thus examines the historical, political and literary contexts of the BG, the other of which is internal and provides interpretive readings of the BG itself.

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Neither author pairs frequent and sustained close-readings with their theoretical approaches.

While both scholars do provide quotations as evidence of certain points, they do so with a degree

of infrequency compared to how often they rely upon abstract argumentation that is based upon

their theoretical approaches. I would argue, however, that a literary Caesar is apparent not only

on the abstract level of thought but also at the level of the individual word.13 By examining both,

one can most effectively bring to a close the traditional claims of literary shortcomings that

Adcock started to dispel half a century ago while also providing in-depth arguments about

specific aspects or portions of Caesar’s texts.

The specific approach by which I will demonstrate Caesar's literary nature was inspired

by Kathryn Welch’s 1998 article, “Caesar and his Officers in the Gallic War Commentaries.”

Welch introduces her discussion of Caesar’s treatment of his officers with the subsection, “The

purpose of the Gallic Commentarii.” She argues that the BG was a tool for Caesar during his

time in Gaul to maintain his political position in Rome.14 By assigning a purpose to the text,

however, Welch limits the function that Caesar’s officers can play within the text: in Welch’s

opinion, Caesar carefully constructs the representation of each officer according to the political

benefits that can be accrued to himself from the relationship. The narration of each officer exists

to enhance Caesar’s prestige. Because Sabinus is a military and political ally his successes in

Book Three are, therefore, to be celebrated; by dying in Book Five, however, he gives Caesar the

opportunity to cast him as a scapegoat for the disaster. In the aftermath of one of the largest

Roman blunders in the Gallic Wars, somebody besides Caesar must take the blame, and Sabinus

is the most convenient person due to his recent death. Since he has died, Sabinus cannot fight

13 Brown 2013: 46 shows the value in closely reading a passage of Caesar’s Latin. 14 Welch 1998: 85-88.

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back against Caesar’s charges.15 Certainly the BG contains numerous elements of political

outreach.16 I will argue such in the course of this thesis. The author of the text has carefully

constructed it so that he can espouse certain ideological values that could have potential political

benefits. This is where Welch’s contribution to Caesarian discourse is most valuable: she

demonstrates that Caesar artfully writes toward a political ideology. Yet, by restricting her

understanding of how the officers are portrayed, Welch limits the scope of literary elements

present in Caesar’s narration of his officers. Welch has provided a compelling reading of

Caesar’s officers as politically constructed characters. But she does so by limiting the role

officers play in the BG to political pawns rather than expanding their role as literarily depicted

characters with potent political implications. Caesar can, and does, reside in both the literary and

political realm.17 Recognizing this duality opens the commentaries to a variety of new readings

informed by the literary and by literary theory.

I turn, now, to the literary method that will inform this thesis. I will make two arguments:

1) although Caesar frequently writes with a style that might be aptly described as nudus,

nevertheless he occasionally deviates from this bare style in moments of importance; and, 2) in

these moments of deviation, Caesar creates a strong narrative voice that establishes a relationship

15 It is worth noting, however, that Sabinus’ family and political allies back in Rome might not be too keen to accept Caesar’s representation of Sabinus the scapegoat. Part of Welch’s argument is that Caesar not only needs to maintain as allies his allies with him in Gaul (i.e. his officers) but also their allies in Rome. This is most clearly seen in her discussion of Quintus Cicero (see Welch 1998: 96-98). That she has not reconciled her reading of Sabinus as a scapegoat with her claim that Caesar portrays his officers in a politically convenient manner for all parties in Gaul and Rome is one of the limitations of her argument as it pertains to Sabinus’ characterization in the BG. 16 Previous scholars have anachronistically applied post-WW2 notions of “propaganda” to Caesar’s work, though such a treatment is problematic for a variety of reasons. Grillo 2012: 2-6 demonstrates why the term should not be rigorously applied to either the BG or the BC. See too Welch 1998: 85-88 and Krebs 2014. Krebs, in particular, situates the BG within a larger, multimedia public relations outreach on Caesar’s part – and in doing so, he casts Caesar as uniting himself to larger democratic ideals, such as his role as a man of the people. Riggsby 2006: 210 attempts to sidestep this problem by redefining propaganda as “any communication, regardless of truth value, that tends to shape the beliefs and values of its audience.” This definition seems to me, however, to be too broad. 17 Grillo 2012: 6 puts it aptly, writing “Caesar simultaneously places the BC within the literary tradition and engages the contemporary political debate.” Riggsby 2006, like Grillo, inserts Caesar into a literary tradition, particularly through appeals to intertexts. For an examination of the BG’s relationship to Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura see Krebs 2013: 751-758. For more on intertextuality, see Genette 1997: 1-5.

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between the historical Caesar who writes the BG, the Caesar who is the first-person narrator of

the BG, and the Caesar who is the main character of the BG. In regards to the first point, I appeal

to Roland Barthes’ book Writing Degree Zero, which posits a style of writing, called “writing

degree zero,” that is strikingly similar to Caesar’s nudus style. Barthes argues that to write

degree zero is “to create a colourless writing, free from all bondage to a pre-ordained state of

language.”18 For Barthes, all of language—every word of it—carries cultural burdens that are

rooted in its previous uses throughout time. As a consequence, writing degree zero is actually

unachievable since language can never be divorced from its cultural burdens; some authors,

however, can achieve something close to writing degree zero. Barthes cites mainly Albert Camus

as an example, though Ernest Hemingway is also mentioned. Most writers, however, and in

particular socialist realists—whom Barthes spends a considerable amount of his text critiquing—

write in such a way that makes the reader aware of the cultural burdens present in language.

Writing degree zero does not strip language of these burdens, but it does momentarily trick the

reader into forgetting about them. Caesar frequently strives for, or wants to appear as if he is

striving for, a degree zero state of writing.19 Barthes would provide a good reason why: Caesar

does not always want to call attention to the fact that his reader is reading a text composed by a

specific man—especially since that man already brings heavy political implications to his text.

Caesar wants his reader to slip into a state of experiencing events rather than reading them.

Caesar’s writing employs degree zero to such an extent that he can pose as if he is not actually

writing. Thus, moments of deviation from a nudus or degree zero style are not only impactful for

an attentive reader but also of magnified importance. In this way, Caesar’s style is both literary

and political. It is crafted and composed, not just written down, to promote a specific ideology.

18 Barthes 1968: 76. 19 Brown 2013: 44-45 writes that “Caesar, the Atticist, eschews an ornate and pathetic style.”

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My second and principal point argues that deviation from a degree zero writing allows

Caesar to establish a narrative voice that relates to the author of the text, the narrator of the text,

and the text’s main character. When discussing the BG, I shall be continually distinguishing

among three “separate” Caesars. There is Caesar the author and historical figure. He is the actual

man composing the BG by putting stylus to tablet. The two I will most heavily discuss in this

thesis, however, are Caesar the narrator of the text and Caesar the character in the text. It is, of

course, tempting to assume that the narrator and the author are the same. For this thesis,

however, we must make a distinction between the two. It may not always be appropriate to

assume that the narrative voice is representing the author’s opinions. In addition, Caesar the

author makes a distinction between the narrator of the text and Caesar the character. The narrator

makes asides (such as the ever-present “as we mentioned above”) in the first-person, while

Caesar the character is referred to in the third-person.20 Moreover, if the text were recited out

loud, then the narrator of the text would seem to be the man actually reading the text aloud.21

Thus, Caesar the narrator and Caesar the character must be kept separate. As I hope to

demonstrate later in the thesis, the temptation to collapse Caesar the narrator and Caesar the

character certainly exists. Frequently the author of the BG casts the narrator and character as so

similar that the character appears to take on traits normally reserved for a narrator: he can be

omniscient and move from location to location seemingly unhindered. This has clear

ramifications for how we read these three Caesars—the more omniscient and militarily powerful

Caesar the character appears, the more the reader attributes these qualities to Caesar the political

and historical figure (sc. the author).

20 Kraus 2009: 162 assigns the first-person voice to the narrator of the text, as well, and in doing so hints at the tripartite division that I make explicit here. She does not, however, make it explicit and thus does not tease out some of the major implications that I do in this paper. 21 For the possibility of the text being read aloud, see Wiseman 1998: 1-7.

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The three Caesars correlate to Gérard Genette’s three definitions of “narrative” that he

presents in his book Narrative Discourse: An Essay in Method. Genette argues that the word

“narrative” (récit in Genette’s original French) has three distinct usages. He defines them and

provides the individual words he will use to distinguish between the three usages: First, there are

the actual events that occur—or the signified events. Genette calls this the “story.” Any series of

corresponding events can constitute a story. Second, the telling (or writing) of the story—or the

act of producing the signifier/signified binary is called “narrating.” And finally, Genette labels as

“narrative” the relational aspect between “story” and “narrating”—or the signifying narrative

statement. All three aspects are relational, and the remainder of Genette’s book explicates the

relationships among the three, though he pays primary attention to the third definition,

“narrative.”22 We can match up our three Caesars to these three categories. Caesar the character

is the signified, the “story.” Caesar the author and historical figure corresponds to “narrating.”

He produces the text as its author.23 And lastly, the “narrative” of the BG occurs at the level of

the Caesar the narrator—he is the signifier of the events in the text. The value of linking our

three Caesars to Genette’s three definitions of narrative lies in how well Genette’s definitions

demonstrate that all three elements are distinct, yet highly relational. We can recognize that all

three Caesars exist and operate on different planes. Their modes of action, be it producing,

signifying, or being signified, all operate uniquely and yet dependently. In exploiting this

relationship between the three, primarily by conflating Caesar the character (the “story”) with

22 For Genette’s full definitions of the three, see Genette 1980: 25-32. 23 It is important to note that “narrating” can occur inside a text, and does so even in the BG. Genette, in defining “narrating” provides the example of Ulysses narrating his own story in Books IX-XII of the Odyssey. He later reiterates this point, on page 27, when he mentions that “narrating” is produced either “actually (Homer) or fictively (Ulysses).” While I recognize the complexity that this provides, even recognizing that it does occur in the BG (for example, whenever Caesar writes that he learned X, Y, and Z from a scout, he writes about an instance of “narrating,” even if the instance is brief), I think that such complexities ultimately detract from my overall point. The three Caesars are all distinct, yet highly interrelated elements that Caesar the author can manipulate for the sake of inflating the reputations of all three.

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Caesar the narrator (the “narrative”) such that the former takes on attributes of the latter, Caesar

(the author) artfully manipulates his multiform persona and his narrative schema in order to

enhance his image as an accomplished military commander. Thus, this thesis will examine the

relationship between “story” and “narrative,” in addition to looking at the relationship between

one aspect of “story” (Caesar the character) and another (the officers). In fact, it is by first

examining the relationships between the officers and both Caesar the character and Caesar the

narrator that we can most fully appreciate the relationship between these two Caesars.

Thus, I shall focus upon Caesar’s depiction of his subordinate officers, primarily Titurius

Sabinus and Quintus Cicero, in an attempt to expand Welch’s basic premise discussed above—

namely that Caesar the author deploys his officers in order to bolster his military credentials

within the text and his political ends outside it. I hope to do so by focusing upon how Caesar

author employs a unique style (using Barthes as an aid) and narratological structure that develops

relationships between Caesar’s officers and the three Caesars (using Genette as an aid). In

addition, I will perform close readings of passages looking for certain literary techniques that

Caesar utilizes. In my close readings, I shall follow Grillo in focusing on the intratextual nature

of the text, since “intratextuality invites the reader to connect the dots that shape Caesar’s

narrative.”24 Finally, my examination of the Caesarian officers will look at their implicit or

oblique characterizations. Caesar does not usually name explicitly the qualities that his officers

exemplify, but instead implicitly characterizes each officer by showing him display whatever

virtue or vice the narrator deems appropriate for the circumstance.25

24 Grillo 2012: 6. Grillo, in turn, credits Damon 1994 for his decision to read the BC intratextually. For Damon’s call to read Caesar with a few literary perspectives in mind, see Damon 1994: 183-195. 25 Vasaly 2009: 247-251 discusses Caesar’s characterization of Ariovistus, noting that Caesar mainly characterizes Ariovistus through “indirection.”

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To demonstrate the presence of a unique narrative voice in Caesar’s writing and in the

depiction of the relationship between Caesar’s officers and himself, I shall conclude this

introduction with brief readings of two chapters. I take one from Caesar himself, and another

from Hirtius, whose Book Eight of the BG provides a good contrast from which we can

determine Caesar’s uniqueness. Hirtius admits the difficulties of writing Book Eight in his

preface given the fact that Caesar’s style is so accomplished:

Quos utinam qui legent scire possint quam invitus susceperim scribendos, qua facilius caream stultitiae atque arrogantiae crimine, qui me mediis interposuerim Caesaris scriptis. Constat enim inter omnes nihil tam operose ab aliis esse perfectum, quod non horum elegantia commentariorum superetur: qui sunt editi, ne scientia tantarum rerum scriptoribus deesset, adeoque probantur omnium iudicio ut praerepta, non praebita, facultas scriptoribus videatur. Cuius tamen rei maior nostra quam reliquorum est admiratio: ceteri enim, quam bene atque emendate, nos etiam, quam facile atque celeriter eos perfecerit scimus. Erat autem in Caesare cum facultas atque elegantia summa scribendi, tum verissima scientia suorum consiliorum explicandorum. (Book Eight, Preface 3-7). Would that those who will read [the continuations of Caesar’s texts] could know how unwillingly I have undertaken writing them, so that I might more easily be free from a charge of stupidity and arrogance, since I have placed myself in the middle of Caesar’s writings. For it is agreed by everyone that nothing has been completed so elaborately by others, which is not overwhelmed by the elegance of these commentaries: they have been produced, lest knowledge of such great things be lacking for writers, and to such a degree are they approved by the judgment of all that an opportunity [for expanding upon Caesar’s writing] seemed to be snatched away from writers, not given to them. Nevertheless, my admiration of Caesar’s writing is greater than others’: for others know, on the one hand, how well and correctly he completed them, but I, on the other hand, know how quickly and easily. For not only was the highest ability and elegance of writing in Caesar’s power, but also the truest knowledge of setting forth his own decisions.

Ronald Cluett argues that Caesar’s continuators are literary continuators as much as they are

political continuators while also noting that their work might have simply been rough drafts.26 It

is clear that Hirtius writes in a manner that seems to be as degree zero as Caesar’s, though his

ability to achieve it with the same degree of mastery is suspect. Hirtius himself, as is apparent in

26 See Cluett 2009: 192-194, 196-197.

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the quotation above, shows that he is aware of the difficulty of following in Caesar’s style. Yet,

he does so anyway, prompting the reader to make comparisons between the texts. In turn, since

Hirtius writes about the same subject and with a seemingly similar style, the difference between

the two authors shows how Caesar develops his style and narrative.27 Hirtius depicts Caesar’s

subordinate officers in two different ways. First, he mentions the legate in charge when troops

are moved, occasionally by writing out the officer’s full name, as if Hirtius organized the

structure of the book around where each officer was at any point in time.28 Second Hirtius shows

officers utilizing the military and strategic maneuvers that Caesar approved of them using in the

first seven books. While Caesar couches his depiction of the officers within a framework of

military thought that he constructs in relation to and by means of the officers’ actions, Hirtius

deploys the officers about which he writes without creating a unique narrative voice.29 As a

consequence, Hirtius does not develop a relationship between the officer and the narrator, since

the narrative voice in Book 8 is muted.

This is in contrast to Caesar’s earlier narrative voice. To demonstrate this point, I turn to

8.27, in which Hirtius relates the successful exploits of the legate Gaius Fabius, demonstrating

his continuous successes with little overt intervention from the narrator:

27 Welch 1998: 58 writes that Book Eight might be “arguably the most boring book in the Caesarian corpus” since—in comparison to Books One through Seven—“it is possibly a more realistic description of the manoeuvres and difficulties of the Gallic campaigns and the role of the legates within that process.” While I disagree with her assessment that the book is boring, I think Welch’s point that Book Eight depicts the more mundane activities of the legates than the earlier books is pertinent. Hirtius is more interested in describing what happened than shaping how his readers should respond to how he is describing what happened. He does not, as Welch 1998: 58 says of Caesar, “[employ] on occasion the highest form of literary art.” 28 It is true that Caesar also writes out an officer's first name upon mentioning him for the first time. After that, however, it is rare for Caesar to mention the officer by his full name so long as the officer remains within the narrative. Hirtius, however, will mention an officer by his full name throughout the course of a narrative, even if at other times he does not. When transitioning between different narrative episodes, moreover, Hirtius also occasionally includes paragraphs that reiterates where each officer was, referring to them by their full names. See, for example, 8.24. 29 It is worth mentioning that Hirtius is likely deferring to Caesar’s narrative voice that he developed in Books 1-7. In this way, he would be a “true” continuator.

14

Eodem tempore C. Fabius legatus complures civitates in fidem recipit, obsidibus firmat litterisque Gai Canini Rebili fit certior quae in Pictonibus gerantur. Quibus rebus cognitis proficiscitur ad auxilium Duratio ferendum. At Dumnacus adventu Fabii cognito desperata salute, si eodem tempore coactus esset [et Romanum] externum sustinere hostem et respicere ac timere oppidanos, repente ex eo loco cum copiis recedit nec se satis tutum fore arbitratur, nisi flumine Ligeri, quod erat ponte propter magnitudinem transeundum, copias traduxisset. Fabius etsi nondum in conspectum hostium venerat neque se cum Caninio coniunxerat, tamen doctus ab iis, qui locorum noverant naturam, potissimum credidit hostes perterritos eum locum, quem petebant, petituros. Itaque cum copiis ad eundem pontem contendit equitatumque tantum praecedere ante agmen imperat legionum, quantum, cum processisset, sine defatigatione equorum in eadem se reciperet castra. Consecuntur equites nostri, ut erat praeceptum, invaduntque Dumnaci agmen et fugientes perterritosque sub sarcinis in itinere adgressi magna praeda multis interfectis potiuntur. Ita re bene gesta se recipiunt in castra. (8.27.). At the same time, Gaius Fabius, the legate, received several states into an alliance, confirmed [the union] with hostages, and learned from a letter from Gaius Caninius Rebilus about what was happening among the Pictones. When he learned these things, he set out to bring help to Duratius. But, when Dumnacus learned about the arrival of Fabius, fearing for his safety, if at the same time he would be compelled to resist an external enemy force of Romans and to consider cautiously the townspeople, he suddenly left from that place with his troops and thought that he would not be safe enough, unless he had led his troops across the Liger river, which needed to be crossed with a bridge on account of its magnitude. Fabius, although he had not yet been seen by the enemy and had not joined himself to Caninius, nevertheless, having learned from those who knew the nature of the places, believed most strongly that the enemy, terrified, would seek that location that they were in fact seeking. And thus, with his troops, he strove for the same bridge and he ordered that the cavalry proceed in front of the column of the legions as far as they could go forth without the exhaustion of the horses [stopping them] from bringing themselves back into the same camp. Our cavalry followed, as had been ordered, and attacked the line of Dumnacus and, having attacked the fleeing and terrified men, under baggage, on the road, they obtained a great amount of booty with many men killed. Thus, when things went their way, they took themselves into camp.

Undoubtedly, Fabius achieves a lot in this chapter, without making any sort of misstep or

mistake that could blemish his record as a successful legate. In fact, the chapter reads like a list;

the first sentence, in particular, presents a factual account of Fabius’ actions in which he accepts

states as allies, which is solidified by hostages, and then receives intelligence from Gaius

15

Caninius Rebilus. This set of actions establishes the tone for the rest of the chapter – Hirtius will

present what Fabius did and what consequences they entailed for Caesar’s army. One

consequence is that Dumnacus fears both the Romans from without and the townspeople near

him, who might revolt in loyalty to the Romans. This fear forces him to change position. In

response, Fabius takes the appropriate action: he consults his sources to learn about the

surrounding terrain (doctus ab eis qui locorum noverant naturam potissimum), correctly guesses

the mental state of the enemy (hostes perterritos), acts upon this knowledge (Itaque cum copiis

ad eundem pontem contendit), and trusts in his cavalry to follow the enemy in a judicious

manner such that victory is achieved. This last action on Fabius’ part—trusting in the cavalry—

echoes Caesar’s interest in depicting the Roman military’s chain of command—an interest that I

will highlight below when both Sabinus (in Book Three) and Quintus Cicero (in Book Five)

follow the chain of command. There is no innovation from Hirtius, though. Even though he

adheres to themes that Caesar creates in his writings of the Gallic Wars, it is precisely this

adherence to Caesar that differentiates him from Caesar; where Caesar creates, Hirtius

reproduces.

Hirtius only depicts the proper military actions that Fabius undertakes and does not

establish a larger thematic context in which this proper military action is undertaken. Caesar, in

contrast, develops theme within narrative.

Pugnatum est diu atque acriter, cum Sotiates superioribus victoriis freti in sua virtute totius Aquitaniae salutem positam putarent, nostri autem, quid sine imperatore et sine reliquis legionibus adulescentulo duce efficere possent, perspici cuperent. Tan<d>em confecti vulneribus hostes terga verterunt. Quorum magno numero interfecto Crassus ex itinere oppidum Sotiatium oppugnare coepit. Quibus fortiter resistentibus vineas turresque egit. Illi alias eruptione temptata, alias cuniculis ad aggerem vineasque actis—cuius rei sunt longe peritissimi Aquitani, propterea quod multis locis apud eos aerariae secturaeque sunt—, ubi diligentia nostrorum nihil his rebus profici posse intellexerunt, legatos ad

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Crassum mittunt seque in deditionem ut recipiat petunt. Qua re impetrata arma tradere iussi faciunt. (3.21). The battle raged for a long time and fiercely, since the Sotiates, trusting in earlier victories, were thinking that the safety of all of Aquitania was placed in their virtue, whereas our men were eager to show what they were able to do under the command of their young leader [Crassus] without their commanding officer [Caesar] present and without the other legions. At last, the enemy, having suffered many wounds, turned their backs. With a great number of them killed Crassus, leaving his march, began to besiege a fortified town of the Sotiates. With these men resisting bravely, he led out the wicker-works and the siege towers. They (the enemy), attempting a sortie at one time and making tunnels leading up to the siege towers and wicker-works at another—in which thing they (the Aquitani) are by far the most skilled, since there are mines and quarries in many places among them—, when they understood that nothing would be able to be done by these actions due to the diligence of our men, [they] sent diplomats to Crassus and they asked that he receive their surrender. With this thing accomplished, they, having been ordered to hand over their arms, did what was ordered.

Caesar writes about a specific situation with a generalized style so that it might be applicable to

other parallel situations. The Sotiates, trusting in previous victories, assumed the defense of all of

Aquitania, thinking that only their virtue would bring safety (Sotiates superioribus victoriis freti

in sua virtute totius Aquitaniae salutem positam putarent). In contrast, the Romans desired to

show their abilities under the command of their young leader and without their general and the

other troops. In this specific context, it is easy to fill in the blanks. Crassus is, of course, the

young leader. Caesar is the general. The generalized language makes the situation flexible;

soldiers in any situation ought to desire to show off their abilities, especially if it accrues glory to

their commanding officer and the general. The narrator, by depicting Crassus’ actions and his

relationship to his soldiers, demonstrates his own capacity for making military judgments in

situations in which they are confirmed as sound. Crassus’ actions confirm the generalized rule

that the narrator puts forward as true. Because the soldiers want to fight for their commanding

officer—as all soldiers should—they win the battle. Unlike Hirtius, who simply depicts Fabius’

cavalry as being loyal and then achieving victory, Caesar the narrator depicts a causal link

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between following the chain of command and victory. This causal link, in turn, establishes the

narrator’s voice as actively framing the depiction of an officer within a larger framework of what

Caesar the narrator argues constitutes proper military action, as seen in the soldier’s desire to

fight well on behalf of their young commander (adulescentulo duce efficere possent). It is proper

for the soldiers to follow the chain of command; in fact fighting all the more bravely in order to

make their commander look good. The narrator, though, reports this fact with generalized

language, making the situation applicable to other similar situations. The narrator thus assumes

the role not only of a story-teller (like Hirtius) but also as an arbiter of proper military conduct.

Caesar’s version of an officer’s good deeds contrasts with Hirtius’ since it more openly

demonstrates the appearance of a unique narrative voice. Frequently this occurs when the

narrator makes generalized statements about how an officer ought to act in seemingly similar

situations. When Caesar the narrator depicts an officer as working in conjunction with the

narrative voice (by following the templates of proper military action described in generalized

statements), the officer’s success in battle is won by means of the proper actions undertaken. In

the following sections, I shall show examples of officers acting in conjunction with military

standards that are approved by the narrator; I shall also show one officer, Sabinus, undertaking

actions that seem to run contrary to what the narrator has shown to be correct. When the officer

acts in accordance with the narrator, it has the effect of bolstering both the officer’s military

credentials, since he is shown to have acted correctly, and the credentials of the narrator, who

depicts the officer as enacting the sorts of actions that Caesar the narrator approves, thus casting

himself in the role of portrayer of what constitutes proper military action in the BG.

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Chapter Two: Introducing the Officers

Two of Caesar’s legates face strikingly similar situations in which one—Quintus

Cicero—succeeds and the other—Sabinus—fails.30 Cicero lives and saves his men; Sabinus dies

and dooms his. Because my close readings will assume a degree of familiarity with both

episodes, I will now briefly lay out the basic narrative points of each episode.31

In Book Five, Caesar put different officers in charge of different camps in order to

combat better the threat of grain shortages while he remained in Gaul, waiting until all the

legions were settled and their camps fortified. He gave a newly enlisted legion and five cohorts

to Sabinus and to Sabinus’ fellow legate Cotta. They wintered in the land of the Eburones.

Cicero received one legion himself, which he led into the land of the Nervii. They wintered there

(5.24). After the Gallic leaders Ambiorix and Catuvolcus incited a rebellion among the

Eburones, the two men led their forces against Sabinus and Cotta, catching the Romans by

surprise, but nonetheless were repulsed by Roman soldiers on the rampart and by Spanish

cavalry (5.26). After the skirmish, the Gauls initiated a parley with the Romans. Sabinus sent a

close friend to the parley, at which Ambiorix promised the Romans safe passage to either

Cicero’s or Labienus’ camp should they leave (5.27-28). After a lengthy debate that pitted Cotta

against Sabinus, the Romans set out from camp at dawn (5.30).32 On their march, the Gauls

ambushed the Romans, and in the ensuing battle Sabinus fell into a panic and pleaded for mercy

from Ambiorix. Responding to this appeal with an offer of parley, Ambiorix promised that

Sabinus would not be harmed if he accepted the parley. Cotta refused to meet with an armed

enemy (5.36). During the meeting, the Gauls surrounded Sabinus and killed him. Cotta was

30 For the remainder of this thesis, I will refer to Quintus Cicero as, simply, Cicero. If his more famous brother should come up, I will make the distinction clear by calling him Marcus Cicero. 31 See Adcock 1956: 40-41 for a brief recapitulation of the events. 32 For a brief rhetorical analysis of 5.30, see Adcock 1956: 66-67.

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killed in battle alongside most of the other soldiers, only a few of whom were able to escape and

flee to Labienus’ camp (5.37).

Ambiorix, elated at his victory, led his army to the Nervii and encouraged them to revolt,

choosing Cicero as his next target of attack. Having joined his forces with the Nervii, Ambiorix

attacked the Romans outside of the camp. They were repulsed by Romans on the rampart (5.38-

39). Beaten, Ambiorix and the leading Nervii attempted to persuade Cicero to leave camp using

the same argument that had worked with Sabinus. Cicero, however, placed his trust in his

fortifications and refused to leave. As a result, the Gallic forces surrounded the camp and

initiated a siege (5.41-42). The Romans, though subsisting on dwindling supplies and sustaining

a considerable number of wounds, continued to withstand the siege and rebuff any Gallic

attempts to take the winter quarters by force. Finally, one of Cicero’s camp-followers, a Nervian

named Vertico, convinced one of his slaves to take a message to Caesar. Because the slave was a

Gaul, he was able to mingle with the other Gauls, arousing no suspicion as he made his way to

Caesar (5.45).

When Caesar learned about Cicero’s circumstances, he commenced with setting up plans

for rescuing his officer. After rearranging where certain legates were deployed and what troops

they commanded, he met up with some additional forces and marched toward Cicero’s camp.

Upon drawing near to the camp, Caesar sent a Gaul with a letter for Cicero. Because the

messenger feared drawing too close to the camp, he put the message on a spear and flung it

toward Cicero’s winter quarters (5.48). After receiving it three days later, Cicero and his men

were elated by Caesar’s arrival (5.48). The Gauls, upon learning that Caesar was drawing close

with reinforcements, left the siege and turned toward Caesar’s army. Caesar, knowing that

Cicero and his men were safe, moved to a safe distance, set up fortifications, and pretended to be

20

afraid in order that he might lure the Gauls into attacking him on favorable terrain for the

Romans (5.50). After defeating the Gauls via his ruse, Caesar returned to Cicero’s camp and

congratulated the officer and his men for their courage under intense pressure (5.52).33

Without anticipating too sharply—and without the requisite evidence—arguments that I

will make below, I hope it is clear that the episodes summarized above fulfill the goals of this

paper. First, they look specifically at two officers in the BG, offering a developed series of

narratives for examination.34 Second, the episodes establish a relationship between themselves

(one being Sabinus’ failure, and the other being Cicero’s success). And third, they place the

officers within a relational context to Caesar the character (and, as I hope to prove with my close

readings below, within a relational context to Caesar the narrator). I wish to focus right now

upon my first and second points.

The narrative similarities become readily apparent when compared side-by-side:

Sabinus confronted by enemy (5.26). Cicero confronted by enemy (5.39).

Sabinus leaves camp, encouraged by enemy (5.31).

Cicero maintains his position in camp, attempting to send a dispatch to Caesar unsuccessfully (5.40).

Sabinus is offered the opportunity to parley (5.36).

Cicero is offered the opportunity to parley (5.41).

Sabinus accepts the offer and meets with armed enemies although he is unarmed (5.37).

Cicero continues to stay in camp, and a loyal Nervian sends a slave to Caesar with a message (5.42-45).

Sabinus is killed (5.37). Cicero is rescued by Caesar (5.52).

The two officers respond to their respective sieges differently, with the result that one man lives

and one dies. In the process, Cicero saves his men and Sabinus fails his. Our interest, then, is in

33 Holmes 1911: 105-118 contains an account of these episodes. 34 I will not be focusing on the role of Cotta, though occasionally he will provide such suitable evidence that I will highlight some of his actions.

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how Caesar the narrator draws similarities between the episodes and how he highlights contrasts.

By presenting the two episodes in such a similar manner, Caesar (as narrator) invites these

comparisons. These comparisons, in turn, encourage the reader to draw connections between the

two officers. The narrator takes historical figures and makes them characters in a narratological

system in which the actions of each character are presented in such a way that he guides the

reader to draw certain connections between them. While each officer has a connection to the

other a character, he also has a connection to the narrator of the text. This latter relationship

becomes most apparent when we examine in context Sabinus’ failure and Cicero’s success.

In order to understand how and why Sabinus fails in Book Five and how and why Cicero

succeeds, a model of success upon which to base our evaluations is needed. Sabinus’ actions in

warding off a Gallic siege in Book Three provide logical foundations. It is worth considering the

Sabinus episodes together for three reasons: first, the main character, Sabinus, is the same;

second, both situations share strong narrative connections in that both depict Gallic sieges on

Roman encampments; and third, Caesar’s narrative voice is prominent in both—a point I hope to

demonstrate in my close readings below. In analyzing the Sabinus narrative in Book Three, I will

be arguing that his success is predicated on certain actions that he undertakes—actions that

Caesar-narrator establishes through a distinct narrative voice when telling the story.35

Sabinus undertakes responsible action by 1) trusting in his superior tactical position, by

2) maintaining a strategically effective relationship with the enemy, and by 3) adhering to

established military precepts, which most frequently manifests itself in his decision to follow the

chain of command. In following these three key military dictates, as established by the narrative

voice, Sabinus succeeds in warding off the Gallic siege. Yet, it is precisely by ignoring the same

35 For ease, I will refer to “Caesar as narrator” or “Caesar the narrator” as “Caesar-narrator.” The same will be true for “Caesar-author” and “Caesar-character.” They will be shorthand for “Caesar as author” or “Caesar the author” and “Caesar as character” or “Caesar the character” respectively.

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strategically valuable guidelines that Sabinus dooms himself and his men later. Cicero, however,

reaffirms the value of following this specific course of action in Book Five by obeying these

guidelines in his own defense against a Gallic siege. These three components of successfully

defending against a siege will inform our understanding of what constitutes success and what

constitutes failure.

The actions described in Book Three occur during 56 BCE. In it, Caesar recounts

Sabinus’ defeat of Viridovix, who was a leader of the Venelli and who swayed a great multitude

of brigands to attack the Romans for the sake of plunder (3.17). During this year, Caesar was

absent from Gaul, thus forcing Sabinus (and other legates) into positions of greater authority.36

Viridovix, upon deciding to attack Sabinus’ camp, took the field on a daily basis, daring

Sabinus to leave camp, to form ranks, and to attack. Sabinus, instead of giving in to these

opportunities to attack, acts as if he were afraid of the enemy, putting on such a persuasive acting

performance that even his own men started mocking him (3.17). This pretense of fear and the

fact that Sabinus sent a loyal Gaul to lie to Viridovix combined to entice the Gauls into attacking

(3.18). Viridovix and his band rushed toward the Roman camp with such speed over so great a

distance that by the time they reached the Roman camp they were tired. Sabinus and his soldiers

then won the battle decisively. The Venelli turned and fled almost immediately, and they were

easily chased down by the Roman infantry and the Roman cavalry (3.19).37

36 Welch 1998: 91-92 offers political reasons for his absence, namely that he had to strengthen his alliance with the other members of the triumvirate and, citing Dio (39.23.4), she also suggests that Caesar helped Clodius with his political machinations. 37 Holmes 1911: 91-92 also provides an account of this event.

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Chapter Three: Sabinus’ Success

Caesar-narrator, in depicting Sabinus’ besiegement, portrays Sabinus as paradigmatic of a

successful officer because he follows the three criteria of success I listed above. In Caesar’s

introduction to the siege, all three elements of Sabinus’ success are elucidated by Caesar-

narrator. I will start by detailing how Sabinus fulfills the first of the three elements by

maintaining his position in a strategically advantageous position in a fortified, Roman camp:

Sabinus idoneo omnibus rebus loco castris sese tenebat, cum Viridovix contra eum duorum milium spatio consedisset cotidieque productis copiis pugnandi potestatem faceret, ut iam non solum hostibus in contemptionem Sabinus veniret, sed etiam nostrorum militum vocibus nonnihil carperetur; tantamque opinionem timoris praebuit, ut iam ad vallum castrorum hostes accedere auderent. Id ea de causa faciebat, quod cum tanta multitudine hostium, praesertim eo absente qui summam imperii teneret, nisi aequo loco aut oportunitate aliqua data legato dimicandum non existimabat. (3.17.5-7.) Sabinus was holding himself in a camp in a location well-suited in all respects, although Viridovix had encamped across from him at a distance of two miles and daily was presenting an opportunity for fighting by leading his troops out, so that not only now was Sabinus coming into the enemy’s contempt, but he was also chipped at by some remarks of our own soldiers; he presented so great an impression of fear that now the enemy dared to approach the rampart of the camp. He [Sabinus] was acting this way for this reason, namely that he did not think that a subordinate officer ought to engage with so great a multitude of the enemy, especially with the man who holds supreme military command absent, unless he could engage on equal ground or some other opportunity came about.

From the initial words that Caesar-narrator writes about the siege, it is clear that Sabinus is in a

well-fortified position. His camp, particularly its location, is well-suited for any circumstance

that might arise, even though Viridovix had a camp nearby. In describing the Gallic attack on the

camp, Caesar-narrator provides further information: “The location of the camp was on a hill that

sloped up, little by little, for about a mile” (Locus erat castrorum editus et paulatim ab imo

adclivis circiter passus mille) (3.19.1). In placing himself on the high ground, a position Caesar

covets time and time again, Sabinus situates his forces in a position such that they have a likely

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chance of success.38 Then, he maintains that chance of success by holding the position and

trusting in the location of his camp and its fortifications.39 As Caesar writes, “Viridovix … daily

was presenting an opportunity for fighting with his troops led out.” By starting the cotidieque...

faceret clause with the temporal adverb cotidie, Caesar emphasizes how often Sabinus could

have decided otherwise: the opportunity was not just given once, and Sabinus’ continuous

prudence shines forth due to the narrator’s syntactic presentation of the event.40 Here, the

narrator and Sabinus act in conjunction, or—at least—Sabinus acts in conjunction with the

narrator’s judgment: Sabinus does what the narrator implicitly argues that he should. This type of

implicit narratological approval—and it need not be approval; there is narratological disapproval

of Sabinus’ action in Book Five—is a mainstay of Caesar’s narrative voice, and Caesar-narrator

employs it frequently in order to characterize his officers, as he does so with Sabinus here. This

implicit characterization, or oblique characterization, strengthens Caesar-narrator’s depiction of

Sabinus’ success: Sabinus succeeds in warding off a Gallic attack due to his superior position.41

This much is, at least in the world of the Gallic campaigns, historical fact for the narrative.42 But,

38 We need only to look to Caesar’s actions in the Battle of Gergovia to see how much of a priority the high ground was to the general. On multiple occasions, he uses baiting maneuvers to pull enemy forces off the high ground—either in battle or before battle (see 7.45-51 and 7.37. respectively). Goldsworthy 2000: 105, in fact, states that “before his [Caesar’s] battles we find the same cautious maneuvering to gain every slight advantage that we have seen from the third century onwards.” 39 It is worth noting that Caesar orders Cicero to maintain his position in camp later in Book Six (6.36), since it had suitable defense-works (6.32). 40 For another rationale as to why Sabinus (and Caesar) might consider staying inside the camp a safer alternative to leaving, see Riggsby 2006: 21-24 who argues that the Romans defined “inside” as inherently safe and “outside” as threatening in respect to space. If a territory is within Roman control, it is safe. Sabinus—and other Roman officers—might think of his camp in a similar fashion. 41 For more on oblique or implicit characterization, see Grillo 2012: 26-28. Grillo effectively shows that Caesar uses this technique to characterize his men on a regular basis in the BC. The characterizations can be both positive or negative. 42 Grillo 2011: 249 asserts that Caesar solves the problems of truth “by not raising the question at all” in the BC. Grillo perhaps overstates this solution to a degree: surely Caesar has to reproduce something that resembles the truth since there were numerous witnesses to what was occurring—by writing about events that occurred, Caesar inherently raises the question of what actually happened. Yet, Grillo’s approach is helpful. Caesar-narrator writes in such a way that obscures the necessity of truthfully representing historical reality behind the primacy of narrative reality. See Collins 1952: 87-88 for the assertion that parts of the Sabinus narrative must have been “supplied by Caesar’s imagination.”

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by bolstering this telling with a narrative voice that indicates approval for his actions—in

contrast to a lack of a narrative voice, as in the Hirtius passage examined above—Caesar-

narrator establishes a relationship between the character and the narrator. This relationship

consists of a mutually agreed upon approach to a strategic problem, and thus it denotes approval.

The oblique characterization through an approving narrative voice can also be found in

the second category of Sabinus’ success: the strategic relationship that he establishes with the

enemy. By ignoring Viridovix’s daily approaches to the camp, Sabinus appears to be afraid of

the enemy. This presentation of fear ultimately induces the enemy to attack on terms favorable

for the Romans. By coercing the Gauls to attack because they think that their opponent is afraid,

Sabinus ensures his success through a strategic decision to appear one way to the enemy. One

might argue in contrast that Sabinus was actually afraid, and Caesar implies this fact. It is, of

course, entirely possible and must be considered. I would like to suggest two responses to this

reading, however. First, if Sabinus was actually afraid, then he had the good sense to manipulate

that fear in order to encourage the enemy to attack. Caesar-narrator makes this clear by first

logically connecting these two notions when he claims that “he [Sabinus] presented so great an

impression of fear that already the enemy dared to approach the rampart of the camp”

(tantamque opinionem timoris praebuit ut iam ad vallum castrorum hostes accedere auderent)

and when he states outright that “he [Sabinus] was acting this way for this reason” (Id ea de

causa faciebat). Moreover, Caesar-narrator also includes the anecdote that a few of Sabinus’

men were tricked by the performance. They carped at Sabinus for his actions. It is worth noting

that the narrator in 3.17.5 implies that the soldiers were wrong to sneer at Sabinus.43 The

parallelism of non solum … sed etiam shows the sneering soldiers in line with the enemy’s

thoughts on Sabinus—an unflattering comparison for a Roman soldier. Moreover, the litotes in 43 See Holmes 1911: 92, who asserts that Sabinus “was simply biding his time.”

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nonnihil not only emphasizes that some men carped at their commanding officer, but also hides

who these men were. By not identifying which men were sneering, the double negative suggests

that the carping men sneered in quiet; they were not brave enough to organize a formal

presentation of their displeasure. Caesar-narrator, therefore, demonstrates how successful

Sabinus’ trickery was while not blaming the officer for actually being afraid or losing control of

camp morale. In fact, the narrator seems to use this anecdote as a way to praise, implicitly,

Sabinus’ control of his camp.44 Sabinus’ strategic relationship to the enemy was a gamble,

primarily because of how his own soldiers responded to it, not the enemy. It was convincing

enough that certain Romans were compelled to sneer at their superior officer. Yet, Sabinus could

utilize such a strategic technique because he was confident enough in his command of his men.

Caesar’s narrative voice, through inclusion of this anecdote and through parallelism and litotes,

confirms that Sabinus made the right decision.45

The third and final element of Sabinus’ success—that Sabinus acts prudently within the

chain of command—has already found its way into my argument, since it is apparent even in the

narrative of the first two elements of success. It is, for example, found in the word idoneo that

starts the passage we have been examining thus far, with idoneo displaying the explicit

suitability that the narrator finds in the location Sabinus has chosen for his camp. This suitability

is further underscored by the fact that idoneo is in emphatic position, only placed after the

necessary Sabinus. By making manifest his approval of the camp’s location, Caesar-narrator

develops a relationship between himself and Sabinus—a relationship of approval. In his clear

approval of Sabinus’ actions, commensurate with the situation in which Sabinus finds himself,

44 As Adcock 1956: 56 puts it, Caesar gives his legates “the fullest credit for their consilia, for their adherence to the ratio belli.” 45 Grillo 2011: 246 argues that Caesar-narrator in the BC can read people’s minds, understanding their mental states. The application of this characterization of the narrator to the narrator of the BG, in conjunction with Caesar-narrator’s approval of Sabinus’ actions, suggests that Sabinus is indeed performing fear.

27

Caesar-narrator establishes himself as an arbitrator of proper military strategy: through his

control of the narrative, its presentation, and its outcomes, the narrator has the power to establish

key military priorities that ought to be followed.46 When he depicts an officer as following these

military precepts, then that officer is—as in this case with Sabinus—rewarded with either

implicit or explicit praise from Caesar-narrator. The narrator deploys a similar tactic a few

sentences later when describing the man Sabinus sent to trick the enemy into attacking. After

pretending to be afraid, Sabinus “chose a certain, suitable man, a crafty Gaul, from those whom

he had with himself as auxiliary forces” (…idoneum quendam hominem et callidum delegit

Gallum ex iis, quos auxilii causa secum habebat) (3.18.1). This Gaul, under instructions from

Sabinus, gained access to the enemy camp and convinced them that Sabinus was afraid, that

Caesar was in trouble, and that Sabinus would leave that night to come to Caesar’s aid. Here,

again, the narrator approves of the action that Sabinus takes in the specific situation he found

himself: when being besieged by an opposing Gallic force, it makes sense to trick the enemy by

sending a loyal Gaul to spread misinformation. In this regard, the man Sabinus chose was,

indeed, suitable. He fits the criteria that an officer would look for in a covert mission of

dissimulation. The narrator confirms this with the word idoneum, the same word that Caesar-

narrator uses to describe the location of the camp.

By no means is idoneus an uncommon word in Caesar’s body of work. In fact, Meusel’s

Lexicon Caesarianum lists a plethora of usages in both the BG and the BC. Nowhere else,

however, does Caesar use one form of idoneus so close to another as he does here, thus

suggesting that the rectitude with which Sabinus acted is, indeed, satisfactory to the narrator.

This suggestion is compounded by the nature of the adjective idoneus. Idoneus is an evaluative

46 Grillo 2011: 253 calls the narrator of the BC a “military expert,” asserting that the narrator “overtly claims military expertise.”

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adjective—it describes the nature of its corresponding noun by providing the judgment of the one

who modifies the noun with the adjective. Unlike a basic adjective, like "large," which describes

an intrinsic quality of a noun that should be apparent to every person, an evaluative adjective

expresses how the speaker perceives the noun. Given Caesar-narrator's typically degree zero

style of writing, evaluative adjectives indicate that the narrator is providing an opinion or an

evaluation worthy of the reader’s consideration.47 Modifying a person or a location with the

adjective ideoneus is surely not degree zero and thus represents a glimpse into how Caesar-

narrator thinks about Sabinus' actions and how he correspondingly wants his readers to think

about these actions. In addition, an evaluative adjective presumes a shared body of knowledge

that the narrator thinks his audience will share. Caesar-narrator assumes that his audience will

understand why each noun that is idoneus is, in fact, idoneus. Thus, Sabinus can act quite well as

an exemplum for us when evaluating his actions in Book Five, as well as Cicero’s and Caesar’s.

Not only does the narrator approve of Sabinus’ actions, thus establishing a metaphorical

chain of command—on display for the reader—between Caesar-narrator and Sabinus, but

Sabinus himself recognizes that he must follow the chain of command by acting according to

proper military precepts, which is the third criterion of success that I listed above. And, Caesar-

narrator, in relating Sabinus’ recognition of this fact, presents it in such a way that allows him to

create another military guideline that Sabinus follows. I turn again to the last portion of the

quotation we have been examining above, 3.17.7, which I quote here again for the sake of

convenience:

Id ea de causa faciebat, quod cum tanta multitudine hostium, praesertim eo absente qui summam imperii teneret, nisi aequo loco aut oportunitate aliqua data legato dimicandum non existimabat. (3.17.7.)

47 Evaluative adjectives, when paired with the narrative structure in which they are deployed, come to represent what Brown 2013: 43 calls a “self-serving narrative choice.”

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He [Sabinus] was acting this way for this reason, namely that he did not think that a subordinate officer ought to engage with so great a multitude of the enemy, especially with the man who holds supreme military command absent, unless he could engage on equal ground or some other opportunity came about.

The ablative absolute and following relative clause (eo absente qui summam imperii teneret) has

a clear referent from a narrative standpoint: Caesar-character. As readers, we are to understand

that Sabinus did not want to act with Caesar absent. But rather than literally write “with Caesar

absent,” Caesar-narrator instead uses the generalized eo. The pronoun eo has no clear

grammatical referent, thus allowing the narrator to express this rule—that a subordinate officer

ought not to act without permission from his commanding officer—as a general rule, thereby

establishing himself as a creator of military guidelines and rules. The narrator controls proper

military actions and rewards those who obey with narratological prominence and praise; those

who disobey, like Sabinus will do in Book Five, may receive narratological prominence, but not

the praise from the narrator that Sabinus here enjoys. In addition, the verb teneret may be an

imperfect subjunctive in a relative clause of characteristic, thus making the sentence refer

simultaneously to Caesar from a narrative perspective and to all other generals from a thematic

perspective.48 Sabinus is likewise called a “subordinate officer” (legato), which emphasizes how

his role in shying from rash action without a commanding officer present is likewise a general

rule that could apply to any officer, not just Sabinus. Any legate in a similar situation as Sabinus

ought to do as Sabinus did: act prudently and with proper respect for the chain of command. Not

only is Sabinus correct in acting prudently, but so too should any officer act when seeking to

terminate successfully the attack on an enemy. Here we see another melding of Sabinus’ actions

48 It should be noted that the verb is in a subordinate clause in indirect speech, thus necessitating the subjunctive. But, I think it unreasonable to think that the rules of the subjunctive’s usage are so distinct that the flavor of the subjunctive in a relative clause of characteristic cannot be found in teneret.

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with the narrator’s wishes: Sabinus succeeds as the idealized officer, a fact which Caesar’s

abstract language confirms.

Caesar’s presentation of Sabinus, through an oblique and implicit characterization that

aligns Sabinus’ success with prescribed notions of proper military action, makes the narrator the

arbiter of what constitutes the approved military framework in which Sabinus attains victory.

Sabinus, by succeeding within the confines of what the narrator constitutes as proper, bolsters

not only his position as Caesar's legate but also the position of the narrator as a shaper of proper

military action. Sabinus, as he fights on the battlefield, is not conscious of how his actions will

afford Caesar-author the opportunity to construct a narrative voice that posits proper military

rules—or, if he is, it is a subordinated concern to the much more pressing concern of winning the

battle. Rather, this opportunity manifests itself through Caesar-narrator’s presentation of

Sabinus’ victory. The Roman military hierarchy enhances Sabinus’ virtuous actions. Riggsby

argues that the BG understands virtue as an assimilated trait (the Gauls can learn virtue and act

virtuously by observing the Romans, for example), but that the unique hierarchy of the Roman

military best elicits virtue from its soldiers.49 Essentially, the effective establishment of a

hierarchy that contains a strong commander and obedient subordinates provides the best

environment for virtue. Caesar, thus, can take “credit for his troops’ actual fighting”50—as

Adcock also asserts when he writes that “to Caesar the res gestae of his legati can be subsumed

under his own res gestae.”51 Similarly, when a subordinate officer acts in the stead of Caesar, he

can evoke virtue from the soldiers. In this way, Riggsby starts to describe the relationship that I

am finding in my close readings of the text—the relationship in which the officer and Caesar act

in conjunction with each other to achieve success. The major development that I am offering,

49 Riggsby 2006: 83-105. 50 Riggsby 2006: 104. 51 Adcock 1956: 56.

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however, is the inclusion of the narrator, and not just the character. Caesar-narrator plays an

integral role in this relationship.

Since I argue that Caesar-narrator presents Sabinus’ victory as a way for Caesar-narrator

to cast himself as an arbiter of military values, I am presenting a dualistic reading. This dualistic

reading understands the events of Sabinus’ victory as a way of characterizing Sabinus the officer

and Caesar-narrator. In this instance, Caesar-narrator characterizes both himself and Sabinus in a

positive manner. This dualistic reading, however, contrasts with Welch’s reaching, which sees

this event as a “portrait [that] serves to alert us to the ways in which Caesar’s narratives suit the

needs of the moment and are not always internally consistent.”52 For Welch, Sabinus, in as much

as he is characterized, only exists as a “character” to serve the immediate narrative needs of the

text. Thus, when Welch says that “[the portrait] also serves to demonstrate that caution and

obedience, not initiative, are a Caesarian legate’s most important attributes” she can only mean

in the context of 3.17-19. In fact, in her later analysis of Sabinus’ role in Book Five, she does not

return to these attributes (or lack thereof) as this thesis will, instead reading Sabinus’ failure in

Book Five as a politically convenient scapegoat for Caesar.

52 Welch 1998: 93-94.

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Chapter Four: Sabinus’ Failure and Cicero’s Success

In Book Five, Sabinus finds himself in a similar situation to that in which he found

himself in Book Three; Cicero, in Book Five, likewise finds himself in a similar situation to

Sabinus' in Book Three. Due to these similarities, it is possible to evaluate their actions relative

to how Sabinus succeeded in Book Three and in relation to each other. Thus, in this portion of

the thesis, I will examine how effectively (if at all) Sabinus and Cicero 1) trust their superior

tactical position, 2) maintain a strategically beneficial relationship with the enemy, and 3) rely

upon established military convention approved by the superior commander (sc. Caesar-

narrator).53 On the one hand, I hope to demonstrate that Sabinus ignores the tactics that led to his

earlier success, instead choosing to act in a manner nearly opposite from how he acted

previously.54 Cicero, on the other hand, follows the model of success that Sabinus established in

Book Three and that Caesar-narrator approved.55 He may follow the model literally—he would

surely have heard how Sabinus defeated his enemy in Book Three, perhaps encountering the

methods of Sabinus’ success similarly to how the reader would encounter them after the fact.

With this in mind, I would like to examine Sabinus’ failure and Cicero’s success, treating each 53 Mueller 2012: 79 notes that “Caesar remains a force throughout the narrative … of course, because he tells the story…” This part of my thesis attempts to tease out the implications that Caesar’s storytelling (which is to say, Caesar-narrator’s narrative voice) has for our understanding of Sabinus, Cicero, and both legates' relationship to Caesar-narrator. 54 See Collins 1952: 89, who reads a similar difference between the Sabinus of Book Three and the Sabinus of Book Five—“two years later Sabinus has nothing in common with his earlier self except his name.” Notably, Collins 1952: 90 argues that the contrast between the two depictions of Sabinus recall each other. Collins argues, however, that is constitutes “strong evidence that the account in Book III was written with the knowledge of the events of Book V.” There are other alternatives to this view, however. Caesar-narrator could be referring to his depiction of Sabinus in Book Three while writing Book Five in order to inform his later characterization of Sabinus, for example. Geltzer 1968: 171 argues that all seven books were published at once. So too does Adcock 1956: 83-89, though he does think they were written year by year, even if they were published all at once. Goldsworthy 2006: 187-188 argues against the notion of singular publication. For another argument in favor of serial publication, see Wiseman 1998: 1-7. See also Levick 1998: 65. 55 If Cicero did have the opportunity to read (or hear, as is more likely in a military context) Caesar-narrator’s depiction of Sabinus’ action in Book Three and then follow his example, then this would constitute a literal example of Sabinus’ role as an exemplum. Even if Cicero did not, Sabinus’ actions in Book Three function like exempla if we apply the definition found in Stem 2012: 146. Stem writes, “actions become exempla when an author frames them as such within a set of exemplary templates.” Surely Caesar-narrator casts Sabinus as acting within the template of prudence, among others.

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episode in respect to each man’s adherence (or lack thereof) to the three criteria of success rather

than in respect to chronological order.

Sabinus does not trust in the (apparently) superior position of his camp, leaving in the

face of an imminent siege and at the urging of the enemy, even though he should have stayed.

Caesar-narrator, after explaining that Caesar-character split up his forces in order to combat the

grain shortage, makes it clear that Sabinus thought his camp was fortified, at least initially:

Interim ab omnibus legatis quaestoribusque, quibus legiones tradiderat, certior factus est in hiberna perventum locumque hibernis esse munitum. (5.25.5.) Meanwhile, he [Caesar] was informed by all his legates and quaestors to whom he had given the legions that they had reached their winter quarters and that each location designated for wintering had been fortified.

Since he is one of the legates who informed Caesar that his winter camp was fortified, Sabinus

has no excuse for abandoning a fortified position, except in the direst of circumstances. Thus,

either Sabinus’ camp was adequately fortified, thereby making his decision to leave the camp

erroneous from the beginning, or—less likely—Sabinus has misled his general, violating the

chain of command. Neither circumstance depicts Sabinus as a responsible legate, and by starting

the narrative of Sabinus’ failure with this type of introduction, Caesar-narrator implicitly

characterizes Sabinus as an irresponsible legate – especially after a second reading of this event

or upon reflection after finishing a first reading.56 In this manner, at least, the moment Sabinus

leaves camp, the unity between officer and narrator that occurred in Book Three is ruptured:

Sabinus no longer works in conjunction with the narrator’s approval of his military actions. The

implicit characterization that Caesar-narrator employs demonstrates his ability to depict his

officers in a negative manner without attacking the men for their irresponsible actions.

56 As Riggsby 2006: 94 notes, Sabinus does not provide “even a semblance of authority,” though he includes Cotta in this description, which unfairly equates Cotta’s role in the Romans’ defeat with Sabinus’—unfair because Caesar-narrator casts Cotta in an altogether more positive light.

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Reconstructing the actions of Sabinus and showing the reader why they were wrong is more

important to Caesar-narrator than explicitly telling the reader. This allows him to pass judgments

while maintaining a seemingly degree zero style: Caesar-narrator's objectivity remains intact—

Sabinus simply did the wrong thing and Caesar-narrator is reporting it.57 Part of the value of

close-reading these passages with an understanding that Caesar-narrator's deviations from a

degree zero style are worthy of attention comes precisely from the way close-reading allows the

reader to understand how Caesar-narrator shapes the characterizations of each officer simply by

reporting what happened in specific ways. Caesar need not be explicit because the power of his

implicit characterizations is so forceful.

The subsequent narrative indicates that Sabinus' report about the strength of his camp was

accurate. Revolting Gauls, led by Ambiorix and Catuvolcus, attempt to take the camp:

Diebus circiter quindecim, quibus in hiberna ventum est, initium repentini tumultus ac defectionis ortum est ab Ambiorige et Catuvolco. Qui cum ad fines regni sui Sabino Cottaeque praesto fuissent frumentumque in hiberna comportavissent, Indutiomari Treveri nuntiis inpulsi suos concitaverunt subitoque oppressis lignatoribus magna manu ad castra oppugnanda venerunt. Cum celeriter nostri arma cepissent vallumque ascendissent atque una ex parte Hispanis equitibus emissis equestri proelio superiores fuissent, desperata re hostes suos ab oppugnatione reduxerunt. (5.26.1-3.)

57 In contrast to the view that Caesar presents Sabinus’ missteps through a reporting of the facts and implicit characterization, see Collins 1952: 88-89. Collins argues that Caesar makes no effort to “palliate” Sabinus’ “errors,” instead selecting circumstances that “make him appear even stupider and less soldierly than he can in fact have been.” In writing that Caesar “makes Sabinus act with an incompetence so gross as to raise a serious question as to Caesar’s own good judgment in allowing such a man to exercise a position of responsibility,” Collins assumes that Caesar “makes” Sabinus take the wrong actions instead of the possibility that Sabinus made the mistakes himself. If Collins’ assumption holds turn, then I might question why Caesar’s good judgment is called into question. Caesar’s (the character, presumably, though Collins does not make it clear) good judgment cannot be called into question if the officer he put in charge did not actually do what Caesar-narrator later reports that he did. Moreover, Sabinus’ actions in Book Three warrant another command (as Collins himself notes on page 90 of his dissertation). It is worth noting that Collins does say later on the same page that he is not denying “the substantial historical accuracy of the records” from which Caesar is working; nor is he charging “Caesar with falsification,” ultimately concluding that the potential fragmentary nature of the materials Caesar must have had in regards to this episode means “we may see his creative imagination at work more clearly than in the rest of his narrative.” For more on whether or not Caesar should have given Sabinus command, see Holmes 1911: 118 n. 1, who concludes that though it “was necessary to employ him somewhere,” Caesar should probably not have given Sabinus this command.

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About 15 days after the arrival into winter quarters, the beginning of a sudden revolt and defection arose, from the instigation of Ambiorix and Catuvolcus. Although these men had been at hand on behalf of Sabinus and Cotta on the borders of their kingdom and had transported grain to the winter quarters, compelled by messages from Indutiomarus of the Treveri, they roused their own men and, after attacking suddenly our soldiers gathering firewood, they marched on our camp with a large band to attack it. Our men quickly took up arms and ascended the rampart, and with the Spanish cavalry sent out from one part they emerged the victors in a cavalry battle. When the enemy lost hope, they withdrew their troops from the attack.

Ambiorix and Catuvolcus deceive Sabinus and Cotta, and in doing so, they launch a surprise

attack, putting the Romans in as vulnerable a position as they likely could have. Sabinus and

Cotta assume that the reason why the Gallic forces had arrived was because Ambiorix and

Catuvolcus were at their service and providing grain. In fact, it seems as if that is initially what

Ambiorix and Catuvolcus thought their mission was until they received messages from

Indutiomarus. Their attack, therefore, surprises the Romans all the more because it was not

premeditated. Caesar-narrator is explicit about this point, emphasizing the sudden nature of the

Gallic attacks with adverbs and adjectives that show how quickly the Gauls decided to attack and

how quickly they carried out their attack (e.g., subitoque and repentini). Sabinus is cleansed of

culpability for allowing the initial Gallic attack; the Romans suffer from fides Gallica and not

inept leadership. The Romans’ difficulty in potentially repelling an attack is compounded by the

fact that some of the troops suffered the attack while gathering firewood. Because Caesar-

character had divided his forces to alleviate the potential ramifications of food scarcity, the wood

gatherers may have represented a significant percentage of Sabinus’ fighting forces, thereby

leaving the camp more vulnerable than normal. The attack occurs as a surprise and while the

Romans, particularly the wood gatherers, are exposed. Though the attack was not planned in

advance, there was still enough time for the Gauls to coordinate their attack with a time of

weakness for the Romans, namely when they were out gathering firewood. Yet, despite these

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difficulties, the Romans are able to rely on their camp in order to initiate a successful

counterattack. Gathering their weapons, the Romans take to the ramparts (Cum celeriter nostri

arma cepissent vallumque ascendissent) and then send out the Spanish cavalry units to rout the

enemy. Without the fortifications of the camp—without the rampart—the Romans would have

remained ill prepared to fight in the field. Instead, because they do take the rampart, there is

enough time for the cavalry to swing the battle in the Romans’ favor. It should be noted, of

course, that this victory is small: the Gauls attacked with a force that was not sent to attack in the

first place. This example alone does not constitute evidence of the camp’s serviceability in

defending against an attack. That said, coming so soon after the narrator’s remarks that the

legates assured Caesar-character that their camps were fortified, it does provide evidence that

Caesar-narrator is invested in the notion that Sabinus’ camp was secure. It also does show that

the camp could defend against a siege if it needed to.

Caesar-narrator also confirms that the campsite has suitable defense-works later in the

BG. In 6.32 Caesar-character deems it a fit place for Cicero to maintain camp, even going so far

as to order him to stay within the camp’s walls (6.36). He reminds the reader that this is the same

camp. First, he calls attention to the site by name, “he [Caesar] took the baggage of all of the

legions to Atuatuca. This is the name of the site” (impedimenta omnium legionum Atuatucam

contulit. Id castelli nomen est.) (6.32.3). Second, he names both Sabinus and Cotta, “[the camp]

where Titurius [Sabinus] and Aurunculeius [Cotta] had settled for the sake of wintering” (ubi

Titurius atque Aurunculeius hiemandi causa consederant) (6.32.4). The camp had the ability to

defend against an attack or a siege.

This point is later reaffirmed by Cotta. During the debate over whether or not the Romans

ought to leave camp, Cotta—arguing that leaving would not constitute prudent practice—states

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that the camps could hold off a large force of Gauls, offering as proof the fact that the Romans

had survived the first attack and won, inflicting numerous wounds upon the enemy: “they

showed that a force of Germans, no matter how great, would be able to be held back by their

fortified winter camps; that this was proof, namely that they sustained the first attack of the

enemy bravely with many wounds inflicted on the other side” (quantasvis magnas etiam copias

Germanorum sustineri posse munitis hibernis docebant; rem esse testimonio, quod primum

hostium impetum multis ultro vulneribus inlatis fortissime sustinuerint) (5.28.4). It is clear from

what happens to both Sabinus and Cotta that, at the very least, Sabinus was wrong in arguing

contrary to Cotta.58 Moreover, given the fact that Cicero is able to withstand a difficult siege and

seek help from Caesar, it is likely that Cotta’s argument would have saved the lives of the

Romans.

Sabinus, however, heard Ambiorix’s offer of safe passage to Labienus’ camp and

concluded that the Romans ought to leave camp. Arguing that the offer from Ambiorix was

genuine and that a lethal grain shortage was assured, Sabinus vigorously debated with Cotta that

the camp cannot be defended, contrary to what his actions in Book Three suggests that he should

do. Sabinus claimed that “the opportunity for taking counsel was small” (brevem consulendi esse

occasionem) (5.29.1) and that “safety alone was in a swift retreat” (unam esse in celeritate

positam salutem) (5.29.6), citing not only the present danger of attack, but also the frightening

prospect of a grain shortage (… si praesens periculum non, at certe longinqua obsidione fames

esset timenda) (5.29.7). In ascribing this last argument to Sabinus, Caesar-narrator invokes fear.

58 Although the two men disagree and engage in a discussion in order to determine what course of action to take, it is worth noting that Holmes 1911: 105 asserts that Sabinus was the senior officer and thus had superior authority, citing Mommsen 1894: 68 (History of Rome) as further evidence. While I think it is perhaps too aggressive to assume that there had to be a senior and junior officer—and the text certainly does not make a hierarchy explicit—it is altogether reasonable that one of the two would be superior to the other. It might be in Caesar-narrator’s best narratological interests to make the legates appear more equal in status than they actually were, however, should Sabinus have held a higher position. See also Holmes 1911: 726 for a further explanation of his reasoning.

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This is further emphasized by Sabinus' use of hyperbaton. Both statements (brevem consulendi

esse occasionem) and (unam esse in celeritate positam salutem) start and end with accusative

subjects in indirect speech that are in apposition to each other. Moreover, Caesar-narrator has

Sabinus start both statements with the adjectives, placing the nouns at the end of the clauses,

making both statements periodic and thereby heightening their rhetorical emphasis. This

emphasis underscores the desperation of Sabinus' plea and shows how large a role fear is playing

in his current decision-making—fear being an emotion that played a central part in Sabinus’

strategic decision to stay in camp during the siege in Book Three. On that occasion, Sabinus

offered the impression of fear to the enemy, while still staying in camp due to the camp’s tactical

value (tantamque opinionem timoris praebuit) (3.17.6). Sabinus, enduring his second siege,

allowed fear to drive his decisions, adversely affecting his ability to make sound decisions, even

though fear of a grain shortage should not have been a strategic factor. In fact, the entire point of

splitting up the army was precisely to combat the potential of a grain shortage (5.24); the tactic’s

success at the other camps, including Cicero’s—which also withstood a siege—implies that

Sabinus’ and Cotta’s camp would have likewise survived the potential of starvation.

Sabinus, in other words, did not trust in his strategic position, as is reinforced by the

subsequent narrative. Instead, Sabinus led his men out of a secure camp that likely had enough

grain. After leaving, they were forced to defend themselves on uneven ground, putting them at a

grave disadvantage (iniquissimo nostris loco proelium committere coeperunt) (5.32.2). The

Gauls chose the site for the battle, setting up two ambushes and finding a place that was

convenient (conlocatis insidiis bipertito in silvis opportuno atque occulto loco a milibus passuum

circiter duobus Romanorum adventum exspectabant) (5.32.1). In Book Three, Sabinus was able

to defend himself in a location suitable for withstanding an attack (idoneo … loco) (3.17.5); yet,

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in Book Five, Sabinus gives that advantage way, allowing Ambiorix to capitalize on this tactical

blunder (opportuno atque occulto loco) (5.32.1). Similar to the evaluative adjective idoneus from

Book Three, opportuno also provides an instance of Caesar-narrator providing an implicit

judgment of the action. It is particularly effective as a contrast with iniquissimo, the word that

modifies the location upon which the Romans were forced to fight. The irony here sharply

reminds the reader that Sabinus has truly committed a tactical blunder. Caesar-narrator

emphasizes the severity of this blunder by placing the evaluative iniquissimo in the superlative.

If the inclusion of an evaluative adjective constitutes a break from degree zero writing, then

calling attention to its superlative state takes another metaphorical step away from a degree zero

style. Caesar-narrator makes it clear for his reader: Sabinus has made a poor decision that has put

his entire force into danger. They are in a most disadvantageous position for defending

themselves. Had Sabinus remained in the camp with his army, he would have been in a much

better position to defend against Gallic attacks.

In contrast to Sabinus, Cotta understood the importance of maintaining position in camp:

“[Cotta said that] they were not pressed by the grain situation” (re frumentaria non premi)

(5.28.5). Given the fact that Cotta offered solutions contrary to those that led to the men’s deaths,

and given the fact that Cotta’s suggestions seem similar to the actions Sabinus took in Book

Three, it is likely that his opinions hold a greater degree of validity. In fact, this entire debate

seems to function as a synkrisis of Cotta and Sabinus.59 Synkrisis is a rhetorical juxtaposition of

two elements, frequently structured as a comparison in which the author praises one side of the

synkrisis and blames the other (though it can be used to praise or blame both sides of the

59 Batstone 1988: 3, who examines the role of synkrisis in Sallust’s Bellum Catilinae, thus placing the rhetorical figure in a Roman literary context, argues that it maintains its traditional capacity to assign praise or blame in Sallust’s work. I would argue that it fulfills a similar function in this episode. For an example in the ancient literature of the act of comparison as a way to praise, see Aristotle’s Rhetoric 1.9.38, in which Aristotle uses the infinitive συγκρίνειν when providing his reader with ways of bestowing praise.

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comparison). As such, I would argue that Caesar-narrator, in setting up this synkrisis, continues

to assert his narrative voice in order to lead the reader into thinking that Cotta is right and

Sabinus is wrong.60 Cotta, in the synkrisis, represents the voice of reason and military propriety,

inserted into the text by Caesar-narrator in order to make clear the mistakes that Sabinus

makes.61 After all, from a narratological standpoint, Cotta is unnecessary to the unfolding of the

events—Caesar could have simply written about Sabinus' mistakes and how that doomed his

men.62 Cotta’s opinions, therefore, receive the approval of the narrator through their place in the

synkrisis, lending them credibility.63 In asserting that the Romans had no reason to fear a grain

shortage during a siege, Cotta has the narrator’s backing. Sabinus, by arguing the opposite, does

not.

Cicero, in contrast to Sabinus, maintained his position in camp and sought assistance

from Caesar. The narrative arc leads one to believe that by staying in his camp, Cicero saves the

lives of his men. When the Gauls first arrived at his camp, Cicero faced a strikingly similar

situation to that which Sabinus faced. After defeating Sabinus and Cotta, Ambiorix roused the

Aduatuci and the Nervii to revolt. He then sent out messengers to the Ceutrones, Grudii, Levaci,

60 The reader need not seek explicit judgment, either. By providing just the facts, the reader receives enough judgment from Caesar-narrator’s tone. He does not need to persuade, simply show. See Grillo 2011: 246 for his characterization of the BC’s narrator: “The narrator does not try to persuade; rather, facts and his judgments on them are recorded with the same matter-of-fact tone.” 61 Goldsworthy 1998: 202 agrees, writing “the correct behaviour for a Roman general faced with impending disaster is highlighted in the Commentarii by the contrasts between Sabinus on the one hand, and Cotta and Quintus Cicero on the other.” 62 Brown 2013: 42-44 utilizes a similar approach. In arguing for the Rhine bridging’s literary value in Book Four, Brown points out the central, narratological placement the bridging has, even pointing out certain narratological techniques that Caesar employs like ring composition. Brown aptly shows that Caesar concerns himself with shaping his narrative through the arrangement of the text’s episodes. Grillo 2011: 245 furthers this claim when he notes that “the omniscient narrator can … rearrange chronology.” See also Grillo 2012: 170-171 for another example of ring composition as well as 158-174 for a discussion of the narratological structure of the entire BC. Genette 1980: 33-85, in his chapter on order, could provide an effective hermeneutic for understanding Caesar’s narratological structure, though such a consideration is outside of the scope of this paper. 63 See Adcock 1956: 56 for the assertion that Caesar praises his legates for their adherence to the “ratio belli.”

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Pleumoxii, and the Geidumni. When he had won them over, he led an assault on Cicero’s camp,

rushing to it with as much haste as possible:

Itaque confestim dimissis nuntiis ad Ceutrones, Grudios, Levacos, Pleumoxios, Geidumnos, qui omnes sub eorum imperio sunt, quam maximas possunt manus cogunt et de improviso ad Ciceronis hiberna advolant, nondum ad eum fama de Titurii morte perlata. Huic quoque accidit—quod fuit necesse—, ut nonnulli milites, qui lignationis munitionisque causa in silvas discessissent, repentino equitum adventu interciperentur. His circumventis magna manu Eburones, Nervii, Aduatuci atque horum omnium socii clientesque legionem oppugnare incipiunt. Nostri celeriter ad arma concurrunt, vallum conscendunt. (5.39.1-3.) Thus with messengers sent to the Ceutrones, Grudii, Levaci, Pleumoxii, and the Geidumni at once, all of whom were under the rule of the Nervii, they all drafted the largest forces possible and unexpectedly flew to Cicero’s winter quarters, arriving before the news of Sabinus’ death. Likewise it happened to Cicero—since it was necessary [to send men out to collect wood]—, that some soldiers who had gone into the woods for the sake of collecting wood for the defenses, were suddenly surrounded by the arrival of the Gallic cavalry. With our men surrounded, the Eburones, Nervii, the Aduatuci, and all of their allies and clients, with a large band of men, began to attack the legion. Our men quickly ran to arms and ascended the rampart.

There are notable similarities between the Gallic attack on Sabinus and the attack on Cicero,

suggesting strong intratextual links.64 First, both occur quickly and as a surprise. Caesar-narrator

makes this clear with verbal echoes. Sabinus faces an initium repentini tumultus (5.26.1);

Cicero's men are surrounded by a repentino equitum adventu. Sabinus' men are oppressed by a

magna manu (5.26.2); Cicero's men are too (his circumventis magna manu).

Second, the conditions under which Cicero’s men are attacked are remarkably similar to

those under which Sabinus is attacked: both men have soldiers out in the field collecting wood.

Caesar-narrator introduces this attack with the clause Huic quoque accidit. I have translated the

quoque as “likewise,” attempting to maintain the more subtle comparison that Caesar-narrator

makes between Cicero’s circumstances and Sabinus’. Of course, the connection need not be

overt; the comparison between the two circumstances is readily apparent simply due to the 64 For the role of intratextuality in the BG, see Damon 1994: 184-185 and Grillo 2012: 5-10.

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events that constitute the plot of these episodes. It is worth noting that Caesar-narrator makes the

comparison clear at the level of language. The inclusion of quoque as a bridge between the two

attacks also deviates from Caesar-narrator’s typically degree zero style. Caesar-narrator is also

referring back thirteen chapters for the referent of this quoque, making it clear that Sabinus

should already be in the reader’s mind. Moreover, Caesar-narrator includes the fact that in both

attacks the Romans were initially caught off-guard because they were out collecting wood. It is

rare for Caesar to mention mundane actions that the soldiers must have taken on a daily basis,

like collecting wood. In fact, according to Meusel’s Lexicon Caesarianum, 5.39.2 is the only

occurrence of the word lignatio in the entirety of Caesar’s corpus, just as 5.26.2 is the only

occurrence of the word lignator.65 The ThLL heightens the connection between the two episodes.

The word lignator is only used five times in Latin, with Caesar’s usage being the earliest.66

Similarly, Caesar is the first author in Latin to use lignatio.67 The uniqueness of these words ties

the two passages together even more strongly than just the fact that both attacks occurred in a

similar manner.68 It is clear that Caesar-narrator is asking his reader to compare how Sabinus and

Cicero handled the same situation by presenting these intratextual links.

Third, Cicero’s men take the appropriate action, just as Sabinus’ men did, for repelling a

sudden attack: they take up their arms and trust in the rampart as an effective method of

defending themselves and turning back the enemy. Note the similarities between how Caesar-

narrator relates the actions that Sabinus’ men took and the actions Cicero’s men took—Sabinus:

Cum celeriter nostri arma cepissent vallumque ascendissent and Cicero: Nostri celeriter ad arma

65 The related word lignor, lignari, lignatus sum does occur twice in the BC—3.15.2 and 3.76.2. The BG, however, contains no other reference to collecting wood using these words. 66 The word has a historiographical feel for the Romans: Livy uses the word three times. For the ThLL citation, see Steinmann: VII 2 1383.33-36. 67 See Steinmann: VII 2 1383.18-32. 68 It is, of course, likely that soldiers used these words frequently; their usage in camp must have been constant. If this is true, then the words might not be rare per se. But, in literary Latin, these words are nearly non-existent.

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concurrunt, vallum conscendunt. There is nothing particularly unusual about the words Caesar

writes to narrate this scene. In fact, the words celeriter, nostri, and arma show up with such

frequency that it is tempting to take them as emblems of the Caesarian style. And they may well

be. Yet, the sentences are so remarkably similar that one cannot help but be reminded of the first

occurrence upon reading the second. The soldiers apparently know what to do in circumstances

such as being attacked on the field: a Roman soldier ought to take up his arms quickly, man the

ramparts, and initiate a counterattack, which may include sending out the Spanish cavalry, as

Sabinus did. The Roman soldiers know to trust in a Roman camp in the face of enemies. And so

too does Cicero, based upon his actions following the attack. After attempting to send a message

to Caesar—which never got through—Cicero has his men start preparing the camp for more

attacks: “that night, using lumber that they had gathered for the sake of augmenting the defenses,

they erected fully 120 towers with incredible speed; those things that seemed to be lacking in the

defenses, were fixed” (Noctu ex materia, quam munitionis causa comportaverant, turres

admodum centum XX excitantur incredibili celeritate. Quae deesse operi videbantur,

perficiuntur) (5.40.2). Rather than entertain notions of leaving the camp for fear that his men

might be overrun or starved out, Cicero instead reaffirms his commitment to maintaining the

camp. He instructs his men to build more fortifications so that they might most effectively resist

the enemy. Thus, when the enemy attacked the next day, the Roman soldiers resisted “with the

same strategy that they used the day before” (a nostris eadem ratione qua pridie resistitur)

(5.40.4). Not only did this method prove to be effective the first couple of times, but it also

became the primary way by which the Romans defended themselves: “this same thing [the attack

of the Gauls and their repulsion by the defensive methods the Romans had been using] happened

on each successive day” (Hoc idem reliquis deinceps fit diebus) (5.40.5). The ability of the

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Romans to ward off Gallic attacks during successive days validates Cicero’s decision to remain

in camp.

Just as Sabinus fails to follow the first criterion of success, remaining in a well-fortified

camp during a siege, so too does he fail to establish a strategic relationship with the enemy, the

second criterion of success. Above, I asserted that Sabinus allows fear to govern his actions—

fearing a grain shortage, he argues that the Romans ought to leave camp. In addition, Sabinus’

unhelpful relationship with fear serves as an obstacle in his attempts to create an effective and

strategic relationship with the enemy. Whereas in Book Three Sabinus had never parleyed with

the enemy, he does so in Book Five, allowing the enemy to set the context of his decision to stay

or leave camp. During the parley, Ambiorix advises Sabinus on what he thinks the legate ought

to do:

monere, orare Titurium pro hospitio, ut suae ac militum saluti consulat. Magnam manum Germanorum conductam Rhenum transisse; hanc adfore biduo. Ipsorum esse consilium, velintne prius, quam finitimi sentient, eductos ex hibernis milites aut ad Ciceronem aut ad Labienum deducere, quorum alter milia passuum circiter quinquaginta, alter paulo amplius ab iis absit. Illud se polliceri et iure iurando confirmare, tutum se iter per suos fines daturum. (5.27.7-10.) [He] warns and begs Sabinus, on the grounds that they are friends, that he look out for his safety and the safety of his men. [Saying] that a large band of Germans, having been hired, had crossed the Rhine; that it would arrive in two days’ time. That it was for them to decide if they wished, before those nearby perceived it, to take their soldiers out of winter quarters and to lead them either to Cicero’s camp or to Labienus’ camp, of whom one was around 50 miles away, the other was a bit farther than that. That he promised and confirmed by oath this fact: that he would give them save passage through his lands.

From the enemy’s lips to Sabinus’: Ambiorix essentially lays out the exact plan that Sabinus

would soon offer as his own in the debate with Cotta. Sabinus should have recognized that this

advice would end quite poorly, like Cotta did, but he instead relies on his supposed friendship

with Ambiorix as the security he needed to make the decision to leave camp, not even

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recognizing that this notion of friendship as the rationale for leaving was prompted by Ambiorix

himself (pro hospitio).69 Sabinus ought to have recognized that following his enemy’s advice

would not end well; he had manipulated his enemies in Book Three in a similar fashion by

sending a loyal Gaul to spread false information around the enemy camp. In fact, Cotta ends his

speech in the debate by asking the obvious rhetorical question: “What is more foolish and stupid

than taking advice on such important matters from the suggestions of the enemy?” (quid esse

levius aut turpius quam auctore hoste de summis rebus capere consilium?) (5.28.6). But, in his

desperation and fear, Sabinus deludes himself and his men into thinking that they have received

sound advice from a friend rather than false advice from an enemy. Caesar-narrator makes this

explicit when he describes the army leaving camp: “Thus, at dawn, they left camp, persuaded

that their plan was given to them not by an enemy but by the most friendly man, Ambiorix”

(Prima luce sic ex castris proficiscuntur, ut quibus esset persuasum non ab hoste, sed ab homine

amicissimo Ambiorige consilium datum) (5.31.6). Caesar-narrator provides his judgment:

Ambiorix never had Sabinus’ best interests in mind; their friendship was never sincere, but

simply a tool of manipulation; and, Sabinus’ decision to follow the enemy’s advice is folly.

Sabinus fails to deceive the enemy, instead allowing the enemy to deceive him with false

assurances of friendship and safety.70

Sabinus continued to make the same mistakes during the battle when he asked Ambiorix

to engage in another parley:

His rebus permotus Quintus Titurius cum procul Ambiorigem suos cohortantem conspexisset, interpretem suum Gnaeum Pompeium ad eum mittit rogatum, ut sibi

69 As Grillo 2012: 64 notes, “iusiurandum is often used with vocabulary that stresses the enactment of a solid bond, which the Gauls often break.” For a Roman to consider a Gaul a friend who will therefore keep his word is foolish. 70 We should also note that Sabinus fails at maintaining his courage. Given the same opportunity to use false fear in order to manipulate the enemy as he had in Book Three, Sabinus instead gives in to fear, affecting his decision making. See also the beginning of the battle (5.33), in which Sabinus’ fear causes confusion and hurts his soldiers’ capacity for fighting. They are only saved by Cotta’s foresight and lack of fear.

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militibusque parcat. Ille appellatus respondit: si velit secum colloqui, licere; sperare a multitudine impetrari posse, quod ad militum salutem pertineat; ipsi vero nihil nocitum iri inque eam rem se suam fidem interponere. Ille cum Cotta saucio communicat, si videatur, pugna ut excedant et cum Ambiorige una colloquantur; sperare se ab eo de sua ac militum salute impetrari posse. Cotta se ad armatum hostem iturum negat atque in eo perseverat. (5.36.1-3.) Shaken up by these things, Sabinus, when he had perceived Ambiorix encouraging his men far off, sent his translator, Gnaeus Pompey, to him to ask that he [Ambiorix] spare him [Sabinus] and his soldiers. Having been addressed, he [Ambiorix] replied: if he wished to talk with him, then it is permitted; that he hoped that it would be possible to obtain from the multitude what pertained to the safety of the soldiers; that truly no injury would happen to him and for this thing he gave his word. He [Sabinus] communicates with the wounded Cotta whether it seemed right to cease from the fighting and hold a discussion together with Ambiorix; [saying] that he hoped that he would be able to obtain from him [what was necessary] concerning his safety and the safety of the soldiers. Cotta says that he will not go to an armed enemy and perseveres in that opinion.

Sabinus, still characterized by his fear (his rebus permotus), allows himself to be deceived by the

enemy, even though Ambiorix is using the same trick twice. By assuring Sabinus that he will

seek to ensure the safety of the Romans, Ambiorix makes the gamble that Sabinus is simply

susceptible to that argument—the same argument he made back in 5.27.10. As it turns out,

Sabinus is susceptible, thinking that it would be the only way he could save his men. Yet,

Caesar-narrator implies that he is wrong by relaying how the Roman soldiers thought they might

save themselves: “although they were abandoned by their leader and fortune, nonetheless our

men were placing their entire hope for safety in courage” (nostri, tametsi ab duce et a fortuna

deserebantur, tamen omnem spem salutis in virtute ponebant) (5.34.2). Whereas Sabinus locates

hope for surviving this incident in the power of the enemy, the Roman soldiers recognize that the

best chance for survival resides in their ability to fight back. Instead of acting with suspicion,

however, Sabinus trusts the enemy, even doing what the enemy permits (licere). Sabinus allows

Ambiorix to set the conditions of their meeting. Not only does he do what the enemy permits, but

Sabinus also actively obeys an order from the enemy: “having been ordered to throw down his

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weapons, he [Sabinus] follows the command and orders his men to do the same” (iussus arma

abicere imperatum facit suisque ut idem faciant imperat) (5.37.1). Caesar-narrator employs

heavy irony in this sentence: Sabinus, the supposed imperator of his men, obeys the imperatum

of the enemy. As he throws down his weapons, he also throws down his authority.71 The result of

this throwing down of arms is predictable—the Romans are surrounded and killed. It should

have been obvious to Sabinus that his actions were quickly spiraling out of control and would

soon get him killed, but his fear has distorted his decision making ability, whether it pertains to

leaving the camp or meeting with the enemy on terms that are not strategically viable.

Just like we saw earlier, Cotta provides a viable alternative to Sabinus in the synkrisis that

the narrator establishes to praise Cotta and blame Sabinus. Knowing the foolishness of allowing

the enemy to set the conditions for a parley, Cotta refuses to meet with Ambiorix, stating his

opposition to the notion as a sort of gnomic statement: “Cotta denies that he will go to an armed

enemy and perseveres in that opinion.” (Cotta se ad armatum hostem iturum negat atque in eo

perseverat). Cotta thus acts within the military guidelines that the narrator approves, seemingly

stating his decision not to meet with armed enemies as if it were a rule. Cicero's actions later in

Book Five show that this is, at least, a generally accepted principle for the Romans, if not a rule.

Sabinus clearly did not follow the proper method of creating a relationship with the enemy—a

fact that is all the more damning for Sabinus since he had acted correctly before and Cotta was

reminding him continually that his relationship to the enemy was not strategically beneficial for

the Romans.

Cicero, conversely, established a much less dangerous relationship with the Gauls,

primarily by ignoring the Gauls’ lies during their parley with the Romans. As I discussed earlier

71 See Collins 1952: 94, who provides a similar reading, noting that “this sentence must have struck Roman readers with a peculiar bitterness.”

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when evaluating Cicero’s decision to stay in camp, his immediate response to the initial Gallic

attack was to send word—unsuccessfully—to Caesar and to shore up his defenses. While this did

not allow him to establish as effective a response as Sabinus had in Book Three—surely it is

more effective for one to deceive the enemy into attacking on terms that are beneficial for

oneself—it did keep his army safe since they did not give into the deceptions of the Gauls. After

the Gauls were daily frustrated in their attempts to take the camp, they sent their leaders to offer

parley:

Tunc duces principesque Nerviorum qui aliquem sermonis aditum causamque amicitiae cum Cicerone habebant colloqui sese velle dicunt. Facta potestate eadem quae Ambiorix cum Titurio egerat commemorant … Cicero ad haec unum modo respondit: non esse consuetudinem populi Romani accipere ab hoste armato condicionem; si ab armis discedere velint, se adiutore utantur legatosque ad Caesarem mittant; sperare pro eius iustitia, quae petierint, impetraturos. Ab hac spe repulsi Nervii … (5.41.1, 7-8 and 5.42.1.) Then the leaders and princes of the Nervii who had any chance of talking with Cicero or any claim to friendship said that they wished to parley with him. With the opportunity given, they mentioned the same arguments that Ambiorix had made with Sabinus … Cicero gave only one response to this: [saying] that it is not the custom of the Roman people to accept terms from an armed enemy; if they wished to lay down their arms, they might use him as an aid in sending diplomats to Caesar; that he was hoping that, on account of his [Caesar’s] fairness, they would obtain what they were seeking. Repulsed from their hope [of entrapping the Romans] the Nervii …

From the beginning of this quotation, the parallels between this episode and the Sabinus episode

are stark. The Nervii, like Ambiorix, try to set the context of their conversation as that between

friends (causam … amicitiae). But, Cicero does not allow this context to stick, recognizing that

he is in fact talking to the enemy (hoste). The narrator continues making the similarities explicit

by acknowledging the fact that the Nervii attempted to persuade Cicero to leave his winter

quarters by using the same arguments that Ambiorix had used with Sabinus (eadem quae

Ambiorix cum Titurio egerat commemorant), showing that the Sabinus narrative is supposed to

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be on the readers' minds throughout the narrative about Cicero. Again, Cicero refuses to budge

from his position, neither allowing the enemy to influence him nor leaving camp due to fear.

Instead, Cicero remains resolute, saying “that it is not the custom of the Roman people to

accept terms from an armed enemy” (non esse consuetudinem populi Romani accipere ab hoste

armato condicionem). Restating the seemingly gnomic statement that Cotta had said earlier—

that Romans do not meet with an armed enemy—Cicero proves his strategically sound

relationship with the enemy.72 The phrase armatus hostis, which occurred in Cotta’s statement as

well, is a rare phrase for the Caesarian corpus. Meusel, under Armatus as a participle modifying

a word, lists only three circumstances of the phrase armatus hostis, with the third occurring at

2.27.2 (calones perterritos hostes conspicati etiam inermes armatis occurrerent). Its use there is

to contrast unarmed calones with the armed enemies, as is emphasized by the juxtaposition of

inermes armatis. Yet, it is worth noting the distance between hostes and armatis, perhaps

suggesting that the phrase is odd for Caesar. Given the fact that the phrase armatus hostis does

not occur with frequency in Caesar’s work, it is safe to assume that the repetition here functions

as a way for the narrator to bring the two men together. The synkrisis between Cotta and Sabinus

routinely praised Cotta; thus, by having Cicero parrot Cotta, he likewise receives a great degree

of praise for how he handled the enemy.

Sabinus failed to follow the first two criteria of defending against a siege that Caesar-

narrator writes he had followed in Book Three—he did not trust in his secure fortifications and

he did not establish a strategically effective relationship with the enemy; as a result, he does not

follow the correct military protocol that aligns him with the approval of Caesar-narrator. That is

to say, he does not follow the chain of command as exemplified by his adherence to Caesar’s

72 What I call a gnomic statement, Riggsby 2006: 94 calls “the conventional Roman reply” to the offer of negotiation while the enemy is under arms.

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narrative voice. Earlier, I argued that as a direct result of compelling his army to leave camp,

Sabinus gave the Gauls the opportunity to choose their preferred location for committing to

battle. Caesar reports this fact with the following language: “they [the Gauls] began to engage in

battle on very uneven ground for us” (iniquissimo nostris loco proelium committere coeperunt)

(5.32.2). I briefly compared the word choice here with the similarly phrased idoneo … loco from

3.17.5. If, as I demonstrated in Part Two of this thesis, Caesar-narrator uses an evaluative

adjective such as idoneus to appeal to a shared body of knowledge and thus employs the word in

a manner that demonstrates his approval, then a similar logic should apply here to iniquus. In this

instance, however, the narrator employs the word to demonstrate his disapproval with the

situation into which Sabinus has led his army. I have argued above that Caesar-narrator’s

deployment of the superlative indicates the degree and severity of his displeasure. Unlike before

in Book 3, when Sabinus’ actions brought him into accord with standard military tactics—tactics

that Caesar-narrator, in presenting them as tactics of which he approves, appropriates as his own

tactics and guidelines for the officers to follow—Caesar-narrator introduces a disruption in the

narrator / officer relationship.73 Sabinus no longer acts in conjunction with approved tactics, and

thus he acts without the narrator’s approval. His actions have more than literary implications,

however; for Sabinus and his men, it is deadly not to act in accordance with widely accepted

military convention. Quite literally, it is deadly to act in a way contrary to how Caesar-narrator

would wish one to act. Sabinus, in leaving camp and engaging with the enemy in a way that is to

the Romans’ disadvantage, has his relationship with the narrator disrupted, and by taking the sort

of action that the narrator disapproves, his men die.

73 In characterizing Sabinus, Caesar-narrator shapes himself. Thus this passage fulfills a literary function in addition to a political one, as Collins 1952: 90 implies when he writes that reading this episode shows “how Caesar has selected and grouped the facts to show us Sabinus in the worst possible light.” Of course, the two aspects might function together—and, in fact, I think they do. I also think, however, that it is fruitful to examine how Caesar writes towards a political goal artistically. Selecting words is as important as selecting and presenting facts.

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Caesar-narrator further highlights Sabinus’ lack of engagement with correct military

action by contrasting him with his co-legate, Cotta:

Lucius Aurunculeius compluresque tribuni militum et primorum ordinum centuriones nihil temere agendum neque ex hibernis iniussu Caesaris discedendum existimabant; quantasvis magnas etiam copias Germanorum sustineri posse munitis hibernis docebant; rem esse testimonio, quod primum hostium impetum multis ultro vulneribus inlatis fortissime sustinuerint; re frumentaria non premi; interea et ex proximis hibernis et a Caesare conventura subsidia; postremo quid esse levius aut turpius quam auctore hoste de summis rebus capere consilium? (5.28.3-6.) Cotta, and most of the tribunes of the soldiers and centurions of the first rank, thought that nothing ought to be done rashly and that they should not depart from winter quarters without Caesar’s order; they showed that a force of Germans, no matter how great, would be able to be held back by their fortified winter camps; that this was proof, namely that they sustained the first attack of the enemy bravely with many wounds inflicted on the other side; that they were not pressed by the grain situation; meanwhile, that help would come from neighboring winter camps and from Caesar; finally, what is more stupid and foolish than to adopt a plan concerning the most important things on the authority of the enemy?

As I argued above, the narrator frequently compares both legates in a sort of synkrisis, through

which he leads the reader to conclude that Cotta is right in his opinions about how the army

ought to respond to a siege and that Sabinus is wrong in his opinions. Narrative approval of

Cotta’s actions can function as an implied and negative demonstration of the narrator’s

disapproval of Sabinus’ actions. This disapproval vis-à-vis approval stands out most prominently

when Cotta directly contradicts Sabinus’ wrong opinions. Cotta is not the only person of note

who disagrees with Sabinus’ opinions, however. The tricolon that starts the quotation indicates

near unification among the upper-level personnel in opposition to Sabinus’ opinions; most of the

military tribunes and leading centurions take Cotta’s side. In fact, the only person omitted from

this group of high ranking Roman soldiers is Sabinus himself. In contrast, Sabinus’ support

comes from the lower ranking soldiers, and the support is achieved through fear mongering that

whips up the common soldier (5.30). In contrast, the quotation above is a list of rational opinions

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that contradict Sabinus’: the Romans ought not to leave camp rashly (temere), especially

considering the fact that they had just proved that their camp could withstand a Gallic attack;

they were not in danger of a grain shortage; and it would be stupid and foolish to act on the

advice of enemies (levius aut turpius).74 Cotta’s first two points have logical support. The

decision to say in camp would be correct based upon principle (the Romans should stay in camp,

as is correct to do), experience (Caesar-character sent them to the camp in the first place), and

empirical proof (the camp just withstood an attack). The lack of concern about the grain shortage

rests upon Caesar-character’s preparations: the entire point of splitting the army up was to

alleviate the grain problem, as I mentioned above. Cotta’s last point has its roots in another major

priority: it is foolish to act in harmony with the enemy’s approval when it is much better to take

action that would be approved by one’s commanding officer (or the narrator). The narrator, by

presenting Cotta’s question in oratio obliqua rather than as an indirect question makes it clear

that the question is strictly rhetorical and that therefore the reason is obvious: “nothing is more

stupid and foolish than to adopt a plan approved by enemies.” Cotta thus asserts an agreed upon

notion of how one ought to act as a commander: bring your actions into line with appropriate

military precepts, not the enemy’s suggestion.

Perhaps most importantly, however, Cotta (and the other leading soldiers) aligns his

actions with what Caesar would potentially want, acknowledging that short of understanding

Caesar’s wishes, prudence is the correct approach in formulating military decisions. During his

list of opinions that run contrary to Sabinus’ proposed course of action, Cotta argues that “help

would come from neighboring winter camps and from Caesar” (ex proximis hibernis et a

Caesare conventura subsidia). If we define the chain of command as acting with deference to

74 For more on the troubles of acting rashly (temere), see Grillo 2012: 33 who reads Curio’s swiftness in the second book of the BC as “unreasonable.”

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Caesar (either Caesar-character or Caesar-narrator, depending upon how the narrator wishes to

shape the episode), then Cotta advocates the correct course of action. By waiting for Caesar-

character in a fortified camp, the Roman army would maximize its potential to be saved—this

potential for rescue seems confirmed by the narrator, moreover, when he tells of Caesar’s rescue

of Cicero. Whereas Cotta recognizes the potential for Caesar-character to rescue his men,

Sabinus betrays his lack of an effective relationship with Caesar-character when he misjudges

where Caesar even is: “he thought that Caesar had gone to Italy” (Caesarem arbitrari profectum

in Italiam) (5.29.2), especially considering the fact that the narrator has earlier made clear

Caesar-character’s intentions: “Meanwhile, he [Caesar], until he understood that the legions were

collected and the winter quarters were fortified, decided to remain in Gaul” (Ipse interea, quoad

legiones collocatas munitaque hiberna cognovisset, in Gallia morari constituit) (5.24.8). When

Caesar-character comes to the rescue of Cicero, after receiving Cicero’s letter, he orders Crassus

to join him (5.46). As Hammond 1996: 233 astutely mentions, Caesar was at Samarobriva at the

time, a stronghold of the Ambiani, which is modern day Amiens and is in northern France.

Caesar-character was far from Italy.

In initiating his list of opinions, Cotta, alongside his fellow leading soldiers, advocates

that the Romans ought not to do anything rashly, without the command of Caesar (Lucius

Aurunculeius compluresque tribuni militum et primorum ordinum centuriones nihil temere

agendum neque ex hibernis iniussu Caesaris discedendum existimabant). In Book Three, Caesar-

narrator provides an explanation for Sabinus’ decision to stay in camp, feign fear, and send a

Gallic messenger to deceiver the enemy thusly:

Id ea de causa faciebat, quod cum tanta multitudine hostium, praesertim eo absente qui summam imperii teneret, nisi aequo loco aut opportunitate aliqua data legato dimicandum non existimabat. (3.17.7.)

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He [Sabinus] was acting this way for this reason, namely that he did not think that a subordinate officer ought to engage with so great a multitude of enemies especially with the man who holds supreme military command absent, unless he could engage on equal ground or some other opportunity came about.

Earlier, I showed that Sabinus’ reluctance to act without his commanding officer present aligned

him with the approval of Caesar-narrator, paying particular attention to the ablative absolute eo

absente. Cotta, in arguing for prudence, employs a similar logic to that of Sabinus in Book

Three, even echoing his phrase dimicandum non existimabat with discedendum existimabant,

with the latter recalling the former both semantically and phonically. Just as Sabinus in Book

Three did not wish to act without his commanding officer providing instructions, so too does

Cotta shy away from making rash decisions without an order from Caesar (neque ex hibernis

iniussu Caesaris discedendum existimabant); in addition, just as Sabinus’ mode of thinking in

the earlier episode brought himself into alignment with the narrative voice, so too does Cotta’s.

In this way, Cotta, in contrast to Sabinus in the later episode, acts in accordance with established

military precepts (which is reinforced by the fact that most of the other leading soldiers agree

with Cotta), throwing Sabinus’ failure to do so in Book Five into even sharper relief than the

disapproval of the narrator’s voice.

Cicero, like Cotta and unlike Sabinus, does take the proper action as determined by the

narrator, thus following established military convention.75 Indeed, he even follows a strikingly

similar course of action to that which Cotta was advocating chapters earlier. As I mentioned

above, after Cicero was first attacked, he immediately sent word—unsuccessfully—to Caesar

and fortified his camp (5.40.1-4). Like Cotta, Cicero recognizes the value of acting in accord

with Caesar’s wishes; the successful legate acts prudently by shoring up his defenses while

awaiting word from his commander. In fact, as is clear once Cicero and Caesar are able to 75 See Riggsby 2006: 95, who writes “The different result under these circumstances [from the result under Sabinus and Cotta] was due precisely to Cicero’s (and his soldiers’) strategic restraint based on obedience to authority.”

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communicate, Cicero had placed all of his hope of survival in the camp (5.40), his men’s ability

to defend the camp (5.42-44), and Caesar’s assistance (5.45). As the situation worsens, we

actually learn that more and more messages and dispatches were sent off to Caesar from Cicero’s

camp, thus indicating the sincerity with which Cicero wished to reach Caesar (5.45.1). As

Riggsby notes, difficulties of communication are “mentioned only in this episode,” though he

astutely notes that they may have been “common throughout the course of the war.”76 Like in

Caesar-narrator’s use of lignatio, a rare word in Caesar’s texts (and Latin literature in general)

but more than likely common among the everyday parlance of soldiers, the unique highlighting

of what must have been a common occurrence underscores how central Cicero’s attempt to

communicate with Caesar-character is. It is the type of detail Caesar-narrator does not typically

include, thus making its inclusion all the more important. This sort of extraneous detail

indicates the approval that Cicero finds in Caesar’s narrative voice. As I demonstrated above, it

is typical for the narrator to break his “degree zero style” of narration when the addition of a

detail will influence how the reader responds to a character in the text. Here is another instance

of Caesar’s narrative voice extrapolating from Cicero’s situation an inferred attitude toward

reaching Caesar by dispatch, namely that Cicero felt it necessary to perform continual outreach

to his commander. There is no reason for Caesar-narrator to include this detail, except to imply

that Cicero’s desire to reach Caesar is a necessary component for understanding the narrator’s

characterization of the legate. Perhaps we might consider the fact that it increases the desperate

tone of the narrative, creating a more intense circumstance from which Caesar might rescue

Cicero. Yet, this intensification of the narrative would likewise enhance Cicero’s standing in

Caesar-character’s eyes (as well as Caesar-narrator’s).

76 Riggsby 2006: 95.

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As evidence of this enhancement, I turn to how Caesar-character depicts his perception of

Cicero’s actions during and after he saves Cicero and his men. After Cicero and Caesar had been

able to achieve at least rudimentary communication through messengers, Caesar writes to

Cicero: “In the letter he [Caesar] wrote that he would soon arrive with his legions; [and] he urged

[Cicero] that he maintain his former courage” (In litteris scribit se cum legionibus profectum

celeriter adfore; hortatur, ut pristinam virtutem retineat) (5.48.6). In using the adjective

pristinus, Caesar-character retroactively approves of Cicero’s actions, arguing that Cicero’s

decision to maintain his position in camp, disregard the deceptions of the enemy, and reach out

to his commander (which is to say, act in accordance with established military convention) are

all acts of virtus. Cicero thus receives a strong endorsement from Caesar-character for his

actions. But, again, Caesar-narrator’s decision to include this extraneous information means that

he is appropriating Caesar-character’s endorsement as his own. By having Caesar-character

approve of Cicero’s actions, Caesar-narrator approves of his actions too, acknowledging that

Cicero, throughout the siege, had acted in accordance with his (the narrator’s) approval. After

Caesar-character rescues Cicero, he expresses a similar sentiment: “He [Caesar] praised Cicero,

according to his merits, and the legion” (Ciceronem pro eius merito legionemque conlaudat)

(5.52.4). Cicero, here in first position and thus emphatically placed, receives the type of praise

that can be seen as praise stemming simultaneously from Caesar-character and Caesar-narrator.

The connection of praise between Caesar-character and –narrator is also evident in the ambiguity

of the phrase pro eius merito: it could be translated as either “Caesar praised Cicero, as Caesar

[the character] thought Cicero deserved” or as “Caesar praised Cicero, as I [as narrator] feel he

deserved.”

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Cicero, like Sabinus in Book Three and Cotta in Book Five, acts in conjunction with the

approval of the narrator; his deeds are those that a legate should undertake in the same

circumstance, as dictated by the narrator, who thus presents himself as an arbiter of proper

military action. By presenting unequivocal cases of success that were successful precisely

because of the actions that the narrator endorses, the narrator in turn presents himself as a

reliable source for what can be considered proper military action. Caesar-narrator takes upon

himself the mantle of arbiter of military thought, deploying his narrative and his characters as

examples of his military high-mindedness. Cotta’s and Sabinus’ deaths function similarly as

well. Sabinus’ death appears to be the negative example that departs from his earlier actions as

well as those of Cicero’s in Book Five. The narrator implies that by ignoring the typical military

action sanctioned by the narrator one ensures one’s failure just as readily as one ensures one’s

success by ascribing to the narrator’s view of proper conduct. Sabinus’ death was a certainty

because he broke from military propriety, the rectitude of which the narrator assumes for himself

and his own narrative voice.

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Chapter Five: Caesar-character and Caesar-narrator

Sabinus successfully wards off a Gallic siege in Book Three by employing three tactics in

particular: he maintains his position in a tactically advantageous camp, he establishes a

strategically effective relationship with the enemy through deception, and he follows the chain of

command as typified by adherence to military protocol that Caesar-narrator approves. In Book

Five, however, Sabinus does not follow the same criteria for success in defending against a siege

that he used in Book Three; instead, he argues with his co-legate Cotta that they take actions

contrary to what worked in Book Three. Even though Cotta disagreed with him, the Romans still

follow Sabinus’ advice and, as a result, they are nearly all killed. In contrast, later in Book Five

Quintus Cicero, when facing a Gallic siege similar to the one that had killed Sabinus’ men, elects

to follow the same criteria of success that Sabinus established in Book Three, saving his men in

the process. Of particular significance is his decision to send for his commander. Caesar, after

receiving Cicero’s letter, hastens to his legate’s winter quarters, draws the enemy away from the

camp, and beats them in battle. Cicero’s actions are validated by both Caesar-narrator and

Caesar-character’s rescue operation; unlike Sabinus’ men, Cicero’s men survive a trying

situation, and Caesar-character plays a major part in their survival.

Caesar-character’s introduction into the narrative introduces a new element for

investigation. Thus far, my approach in evaluating how the officers in the BG function has been

both narratological (Genette) and semiological (Barthes), though the two approaches are strongly

tied. I have added to this approach a philological reading of the text. Using Genette’s three

definitions of “narrative” as the theoretical support for my narratological approach and Barthes’

concept of “writing degree zero” for my linguistic approach, I have demonstrated that Caesar-

narrator frequently, and in a manner that is hidden in plain sight, asserts his voice in such a way

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that he can relay his approval or disapproval of an officer’s actions to the reader. When Caesar-

narrator approves of an officer’s actions, and when the officer acts in accordance with what

seems like an established military protocol that the narrator favors, the two entities seem to meld

together, at least in respect to how they approach the same situations. The officer’s reputation is

enhanced, his actions approbated, and the narrator’s opinions about how officers ought to act are

shown to be accurate. In this way, Caesar-narrator casts himself as an arbiter of military thought

and proper strategic conduct. By characterizing as correct the officer who works within a

framework of proper military action established by the narrator, Caesar-narrator shifts the

consideration of what constitutes correct military action from the officer, who carries out the

action, to the narrator, who prescribes the action as correct. After the narrator has completed his

telling of the two episodes (Sabinus and Cicero), the impulse to evaluate Caesar under similar

standards arises.77 Thus, I would like to argue in this conclusion that the melding of the legates

with the narrator asks the reader of the BG to consider Caesar-character’s relationship with

Caesar-narrator. I will further argue that Caesar-narrator casts Caesar-character as following

similar criteria to that which Sabinus did in Book Three. Ultimately, Caesar-character is elided

with—as much as such a thing is possible—with Caesar-narrator.78 This melding or elision helps

us discern how Caesar-author might have hoped his narrator and character would have been

perceived by his reading audience.

Caesar-character, like Sabinus in Book Three and Cicero in Book Five, respects the

necessity of maintaining a fortified camp while defending against a siege, particularly when it

affords the Roman commander an opportunity to control the surrounding terrain in a strategically

77 See Goldsworthy 1998: 195-212 for an examination of Caesar the general (whom I would call Caesar-character). Goldsworthy argues that Caesar is typically bold and active, but to a greater degree than his peers. He may act like a general in a typical fashion, but he does so exceptionally. 78 As Grillo 2012: 138 notes, such occurrences do occur in the BC as well—“Caesar the narrator and Caesar the character cooperate in achieving the same goal.”

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efficient way. Upon learning that Cicero was besieged, Caesar musters reserve forces and

deploys other forces, calmly preparing his army for battle and ascertaining that other winter

quarters could be sufficiently defended. In the course of this restructuring, Caesar writes to

another officer in charge of a winter camp, Labienus, telling him to join up with the main forces,

if it is possible: “he [Caesar-character] wrote to Labienus, saying that if it is possible to do so

without any harm to the common good, he should come into the territory of the Nervii with his

legion” (scribit Labieno, si reip. commodo facere possit, cum legione ad fines Nerviorum veniat)

(5.46.4). Caesar sends his request to Labienus with the understanding that the situation on the

ground might not afford Labienus the opportunity to comply with the request. This caveat

emphasizes the degree of trust that Caesar-character had in his legates to make decisions that

were pertinent to their specific situations, similar to what Sabinus had done in Book Three and

what Cicero was currently doing. Caesar-character trusts that his subordinate officers will follow

established protocol by complying with accepted military standards that govern action.

Labienus’ response underscores the importance of keeping his position in a fortified

camp:

Labienus interitu Sabini et caede cohortium cognita, cum omnes ad eum Treverorum copiae venissent, veritus ne, si ex hibernis fugae similem profectionem fecisset, hostium impetum sustinere non posset, praesertim quos recenti victoria efferri sciret, litteras Caesari remittit, quanto cum periculo legionem ex hibernis educturus esset, rem gestam in Eburonibus perscribit, docet omnes equitatus peditatusque copias Treverorum tria milia passuum longe ab suis castris consedisse. Caesar consilio eius probato, etsi opinione trium legionum deiectus ad duas redierat, tamen unum communis salutis auxilium in celeritate ponebat. (5.47.4-48.1.) Labienus, when he learned about the death of Sabinus and massacre of his cohorts, and since the forces of the Treveri had all come to him, feared that if he left his winter quarters in a manner similar to flight he would not be able to survive the attack of the enemy, especially since he knew that the enemy was ecstatic over their recent victory. He [Labienus] sent a letter back to Caesar

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expressing how dangerous it would be to lead the legion out of the winter quarters. He told him about everything that happened among the Eburones and showed that the whole army of the Treveri—the cavalry and the infantry—had encamped three miles away from his camp. Caesar, approving of his [Labienus’] judgment, although he had hoped to have three legions and now had been reduced to two, nevertheless placed the only hope of helping out the common good in speed.

This passage contains three key elements. First is Labienus’ initial response to Caesar’s request:

he is concerned that leaving his camp would appear like he was fleeing and that this departure

would put him in a disadvantageous position for defending himself. By leaving the camp in a

manner that looks like flight, Labienus would encourage the enemy to attack his troops when

they have insufficient defenses. Labienus intuits the dangers of leaving a fortified camp and

instead follows military protocol, even though that means denying Caesar his request. Second is

Labienus’ letter to Caesar: he informs Caesar of the danger that he is in and of what is occurring

in the region in which he is encamped. Third, and most important for this thesis, is Caesar-

character’s response, mainly given in the ablative absolute consilio eius probato. When chapter

48 starts, the word Caesar emphatically denotes the shift in focalization from Labienus to

Caesar-character, thus emphasizing the actions of Caesar-character. The phrasing of the

sentence's beginning shows Caesar’s approval of Labienus’ actions, especially considering the

fact that consilio eius probato may be more logically written as consilio Labieni probato or with

a connecting relative. Thus it becomes evident that Caesar respects Labienus’ decision to

maintain his own camp. Caesar appreciates Labienus’ appeal to conventional military tactics and

allows him to stay in his camp.

Caesar-character himself also understands the value of securing a fortified Roman camp.

After drawing the enemy away from Cicero’s camp, Caesar recognizes that speed is no longer

necessary for the rescue operation and decides to settle into a camp:

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Consedit et, quam aequissimo loco potest, castra communit atque haec, etsi erant exigua per se, vix hominum milium septem, praesertim nullis cum impedimentis, tamen angustiis viarum, quam maxime potest, contrahit, eo consilio, ut in summam contemptionem hostibus veniat. (5.49.7.) He [Caesar] stopped and fortified a camp in the most advantageous position possible and although the camp was small in and of itself—there was scarcely room for seven thousand men, even without the baggage—nevertheless he made it as small as possible through the narrowness of the roads so that, through this course of action, he might come into the enemy's contempt.

Caesar-narrator continues his deployment of the superlative in describing locations of strategic

benefit—a rhetorical tool that I highlighted above. In this instance, he writes that Caesar-

character secured his camp in the “the most advantageous position possible” (quam aequissimo

loco potest), doubling down on emphatic phrasing by combining quam + the superlative with the

intensification of the optional potest. This deployment of emphatically approving language has a

similar effect as it did with Sabinus and Cicero when the actions of either man warranted

approval. It demonstrates that Caesar-narrator approves of Caesar-character’s strategic decisions.

His camp placement and makeup was essentially as perfect as possible, particularly since it

caused the enemy to disregard it and not attempt to capture it. The deployment of approving

language also depicts Caesar-character as acting in conjunction with proper military tactics—

tactics that are, yet again, approved by Caesar-narrator. In this way, the opinions of Caesar-

character and Caesar-narrator meld: both Caesarian entities come together on the value of a

fortified camp and deception. To anticipate an argument I am going to make below, in the course

of which argument I will more fully investigate this relationship, I would like to note that even

when Caesar-character himself maintains a fortified camp, Caesar-narrator expresses the act in

the same way that he did with Sabinus and Cicero.

Not only does Caesar-character follow the first criterion of Sabinus’ model for success by

securing a camp, but he also appropriately enacts the second by establishing an effective

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relationship with the enemy precisely by manipulating the enemy through deception. When

writing to Cicero, for example, Caesar-character writes in Greek so that the enemy cannot

intercept and understand the message: “He [Caesar] sends this dispatch entirely in Greek, so that,

if it were intercepted by the enemy, they would not be able to learn our plans” (hanc Graecis

conscriptam litteris mittit, ne intercepta epistula nostra ab hostibus consilia cognoscantur)

(5.48.4). Later, when Caesar-character has already fortified his own camp and has drawn the

enemy away from Cicero’s, he utilizes a strategy that Sabinus employed in Book Three: he

pretends to be afraid in order to lure the enemy into a positon most desirable for the Romans to

attack (… si forte timoris simulatione hostes in suum locum elicere posset ...) (5.50.3). Caesar-

character, as the narrator makes explicit, pretends to be afraid by giving off the appearance of

fear in addition to deceiving the enemy by artificially shrinking his camp.79 In doing so, he is

able to entice the enemy to fight on his terms—note the use of suus here, making it clear that

Caesar wanted to fight in a specific place that he already controlled.80 After the cavalry ran out to

engage the enemy and then retreat, as if they were afraid, Caesar-character “orders that in doing

these things [namely, shoring up the defenses of the camp] there be as much running around as

possible and that things be done with the appearance of fear” (in his administrandis rebus quam

maxime concursari et cum simulatione agi timoris iubet) (5.50.5). Caesar, doing what even

Sabinus could not do in Book Three, convinces his men of the validity of this tactic, ordering

them to also display the appearance of panic. In doing so, Caesar-character not only

demonstrates his complete control over his men in contrast to Sabinus, but he also achieves his

main goal of goading the enemy into battle on favorable terms for the Romans. Caesar-narrator

79 It should be noted that the narrator never makes it explicit that Sabinus was acting timoris simulatione. The evidence suggests, however, that Sabinus was not actually afraid, but was instead performing fear. See my arguments above for more detail. 80 It does also contrast with suo loco from 5.50.1, which there describes the Gauls' superior position.

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writes, “Coaxed by all these things, the enemy led forth their troops and formed a battle line on

unfavorable ground” (Quibus omnibus rebus hostes invitati copias traducunt aciemque iniquo

loco constituunt) (5.51.1). As has become typical for circumstances in which Caesar-narrator

discusses a Roman engaging in a certain location, the narrator here uses another evaluative

adjective. The battle will be fought on unfavorable ground for the Gauls, precisely because of the

deception that Caesar-character employs against them.

Twice now in presenting evidence of Caesar-character’s similarity of action to Sabinus in

Book Three and Cicero in Book Five I have cited as evidence certain words (typically evaluative

adjectives in the superlative, such as aequissimo) that are typical of words that Caesar-narrator

uses when aligning himself with either Sabinus or Cicero (or Cotta, for that matter). As I have

suggested before with the officers, these words meld the officer with the narrator in such a way

that they appear to be appealing to the same set of military guidelines. This, of course, is the

product of the narrator creating this melding since the officer is acting in deference to established

military convention and to Caesar-character’s wishes. The officer could not have known how

Caesar-narrator would have framed the episodes themselves. Caesar-narrator, in contrast, does

frame the narratives in order both to enhance the officer’s reputation for acting in the proper

manner and to enhance his own reputation by establishing what is shown to be a successful tactic

and what is not. In this way, Caesar-narrator casts himself as an arbiter of proper military

conduct: he approves or disapproves of certain acts with his narratological structure and his

specific word choices with the result that he sets the expectations for what a reader thinks an

officer or commander ought to do in any given situation, such as defending against a siege or

conducting a rescue operation. In both circumstances, Caesar-character and his successful

officers have exercised similar techniques: they all respected the capacities of a Roman camp to

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defend against an enemy and they have all established tactically effective relationships with the

enemy that capitalize on either deceiving the enemy (Caesar-character in Book Five and Sabinus

from Book Three) or resisting the enemy’s attempt to be deceptive (Cicero and Cotta in Book

Five).

The officers, however, also employed a third technique—something that I have been

calling adherence to proper military conduct—that Caesar-character cannot as readily do. In

acting in accordance with military propriety, the officers follow the chain of command, a basic

military priority. An officer can literally follow the chain of command by obeying the commands

of Caesar-character. He can also follow a sort of metaphorical chain of command that Caesar-

narrator establishes. Caesar-narrator, in showing the officers as following proper military

conduct that he, in turn, approves, depicts the officers as being subordinate to him, as if his

adjudication over what is proper is an act of a commanding officer. The narrator sets up a

metaphorical chain of command by embodying whatever constitutes proper action. In this way,

the officer who follows established military conduct follows a chain of command in which the

narrator is the supreme commander. Thus, when the two meld—officer and narrator—it is to the

benefit of the officer’s reputation because he, for a moment, has his opinion elevated to the status

of a commander’s opinion.

Caesar-character, however, cannot follow this third criterion of following the chain of

command. Just as Caesar-narrator inhabits the top spot of the metaphorical chain of command, so

too does Caesar-character occupy the top spot of the actual chain of command. In no way can

Caesar, the lead general, obey the commands of a higher authority; in the BG, where Rome and

the Senate are hardly present, there are no higher authorities. Thus, Caesar-character and Caesar-

narrator occupy equivalent positions by being on top of two respective chains of command, one

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literal and the other metaphorical. They fulfill different literary functions, as is most easily

evidenced by the fact that the narrator adopts a first-person voice and assigns the third-person to

Caesar-character. Yet, they both attempt to collapse this difference, particularly Caesar-narrator.

By depicting Caesar-character in a similar fashion to how he depicts Sabinus in Book Three and

Cicero in Book Five, Caesar-narrator invites his reader to see an analogous melding of character

and narrator. The narrator depicts the character’s action in order to suggest that there is not just a

unity of thought between character and narrator, but of person as well (in as much as the narrator

can be personified). Caesar-character, as the man who not only follows the precepts of correct

military action but also determines these precepts for those under his command, fulfills the role

that the narrator plays for his officers. Both men, by occupying the top of their respective chains

of command, occupy the same space in relation to the officers: they determine how the officers

ought to act, with Caesar-character presenting this determination to the officers directly and

Caesar-narrator presenting it to the reader. Thus, Caesar-narrator casts Caesar-character as

likewise an arbiter of military thought. The character and the narrator appear to be the same.

This is, of course, fraught with problems, not the least of which is the fact that the two

roles are distinct (I am reminded again of the distinction between first-person narrator and third-

person character). Moreover, their relationship to the text is different, particularly when we recall

the two definitions of “narrative” that Genette presents: Caesar-narrator articulates and shapes

the story while Caesar-character embodies the action of the story. But this attempt to blur the

distinction between character and narrator is, at times, seemingly successful. In doing so,

moreover, Caesar-character seems to take on the traits of a narrator: he can appear to exercise

incredible foresight, for example, almost as if he were an omniscient narrator—a trait that would

be beneficial for any military commander to possess. As an example, we might look at 2.20.3 in

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which Caesar has the foresight to tell his men not to stop working on fortifying the camp (here,

again, following the appropriate action of securing one’s camp) until it is complete: quod ab

opere singulisque legionibus singulos legatos Caesar discedere nisi munitis castris vetuerat. As

Tatum 2012: 62 points out, this order demonstrates Caesar’s foresight, which is “crucial to the

Romans’ success in this crisis” even though they had to defend against the “cunning of the Nervi

[and] their amazing prowess” which were “not foreseeable.” This appropriation of a narrator's

traits by Caesar-character is the crux of my reading of Caesar-character’s melding with Caesar-

narrator: Caesar-narrator characterizes Caesar-character just as much as he does the different

officers. He depicts Caesar-character as undertaking the same actions of success that the officers

do, but he also lends Caesar-character many of the traits that would typically be reserved for a

narrator by melding them together in a manner that bolsters Caesar-character’s ability to be a

general.

Brown hints at this relationship between Caesar-character and Caesar-general, though he

does not explicitly articulate it. As Brown writes, “Caesar represents the construction of the

bridge [over the Rhine] as an extension of his generalship in the field.”81 The actions that Caesar-

narrator depicts Caesar-character doing in the text influence the reader’s understanding of

Caesar-general. Riggsby does not argue toward the same melding of character and narrator. He

examines Caesar-character’s and Caesar-narrator’s stances on “theodicy and … barbarism,”

noting that the character takes a “more morally engaged stand than the narrator.”82 Pelling, in

contrast, understands a melding between Caesar-character and Caesar-narrator, whom he labels

he-Caesar and I-Caesar. He reaches a similar conclusion to mine through numerous arguments,

81 Brown 2013:46. 82 Riggsby 2006: 151. For Riggsby’s discussion of the Caesarian voice, see pages 150-155.

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most notably by investigating the supposed objectivity of the third person voice and the authority

of both he-Caesar and I-Caesar.83

The implications of this melding of character and narrator for our understanding of the

tripartite relationship among the three Caesars are apparent. Caesar-author benefits from a

characterization of himself as a Roman general who has seemingly omniscient foresight. A

reader might naturally attribute to Caesar-author those qualities that Caesar-narrator depicts in

Caesar-character.84 Yet, such an argument needs, by necessity, be posited in a manner that is

consistent with the historical reality in which Caesar-character existed. That is to say, Caesar-

author cannot hope that his audience would believe that the character depiction of himself

actually had some sort of magical foresight that allowed him to enact maneuvers that outsmart

his opponents. The best Caesar-author might be able to argue is that he (depicted as Caesar-

character) contains a unique military instinct that allows him to guess with a degree of certainty

what might happen so that he might act in such a way that is commensurate with this instinct.

Yet, there would be nothing keeping other Roman generals from making similar claims. As such,

Caesar-author must hope that his fellow Romans accept the suggestion that his narrator puts

forth. The role that Sabinus and Cicero can fulfill, then, is as points of comparison. The narrator

characterizes both men and their actions in such a way that comparison with Caesar-character is

inevitable. Where they fall short, he succeeds; where they succeed, he overcomes any potential

shortcomings; where they meld with narrator in their opinion of how to approach a situation, he

melds with narrator on a much broader level due to their shared nature as commanders at the top

of a chain of command. Caesar-author can only benefit from Caesar-character’s successes, and

this includes his success on the page. Caesar the general (and the author) brought home booty

83 See Pelling 2013: 48-57. 84 The transference of qualities between the different Caesars relies upon a similar implicit characterization that Caesar-narrator employs with his officers. As Kraus 2009: 161 puts it, “Caesar pulls back from self-puffery.”

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from his campaigns, and Caesar-character perpetuates the success of these campaigns through

his depiction of Caesar-narrator.85

85 Thus this argument deals with how Caesar-author constructs his reputation. See Kraus 2005: 105 for a look at Caesar’s licentious reputation. For an examination of how the narrator of the BC’s military expertise colors the characterization of Caesar (the author and historical figure), see Grillo 2011: 253-264.

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